Kurt knew none of this was going to last, so he didn’t try to force it. That would be the best way to make it all blow up. Dom had apologized for blowing him off like that, and really that was more than Kurt had ever expected him to do. He’d take what he could get and enjoy the time they had.

Elisa didn’t like it at all, and she didn’t hesitate to let him know. “You’re not here to be making sheep eyes at some meathead,” she seethed. “You know the tabloids are going to lose interest once they know you’ve been with the same guy more than twice.”

He glowered at her. “My advice would be to not tell them.” He looked down at his tablet, and at the script that was on it. It was a better film than SEAL Magnet, but just about anything would be a better film than SEAL Magnet. “Obviously the choice is yours, I can’t stop you, but the solution seems obvious to me.”

Elisa sniffed. “I’m trying to act in your best interests here, Kurt. You know you have to keep your name in front of people if you want to stay relevant. You’re pretty, but pretty only gets you so far.”

Kurt thought about his mother, alone in that flat back in London. He thought about Dom, down on the firing range. He thought about all of the people who firmly believed they owned a piece of him, and all the people who’d had a piece of him over the years.

He couldn’t afford to completely push off the studios, not yet. But he didn’t need to keep giving himself away if he didn’t want to. “I hardly think that having a relationship that lasts a handful of weeks will somehow diminish the value of an award-winning actor in the eyes of most studios. At least not any more than films like SEAL Magnet. While I have you here, Elisa, have you had a chance to look into any of the questions I had about those expense reports?”

The fake, rictus smile on her face fluttered for a moment before settling into place. “Of course. The studio doesn’t reimburse alcohol purchases, so you shouldn’t expect to see a full reimbursement for those expenses.”

“Huh.” Kurt set his jaw. “That’s interesting. Bob from accounting sent me a copy of the payment record. He showed me that the payment had been made—into your account.”

Elisa frowned, scratching her smooth blonde hair. “That’s weird. I’ll double check that.”

“Please.” Kurt tried to force down his growing sense of panic. He needed to get someone else, someone independent, to look at the books. He’d been burned before, so he had a bias. He couldn’t be anything but biased when it came to potential theft from his accounts.

Having a partner to help distract him from his anxieties about Elisa definitely made things easier. He didn’t lose sight of the problem, but he didn’t feel so compelled to obsess about it. As days turned into weeks, he could relax and let Bob from accounting work his magic and see what he could find.

The drama in Washington, where the American congressmen were on trial for terrorism-related charges, seemed to have a disproportionate effect on the SEALs. That didn’t surprise Kurt, considering the whole mess with Chaos Tree that had come up. It still struck him as odd when they followed the story as closely as they did, but what did he know about Americans and politics? He’d been here for eleven years, but he hadn’t really internalized anything. He’d been isolated from normal people and even most people his own age. Maybe this was typical.

The tension certainly wasn’t doing great things for his insides. He found himself with a kind of constant, low-grade queasiness he attributed to the ambient tension around him. He’d never dealt well when the people around him were miserable, so it didn’t strike him as odd. It struck him as unpleasant and unfortunate. He hoped those dreadful congressmen would do the right thing, plead guilty, and present themselves at the nearest correctional facility so they could all get on with the rest of their lives, but maybe they didn’t do that here.

He learned just how much they “didn’t do that here” three weeks after the Chaos Tree incident. Kurt was aware of terrorism on a general scale, of course. No one could forget the way terrorists had killed eight thousand people in one swoop in Orlando two years ago. So when explosions ripped through the United Holocaust Memorial Museum, the Smithsonian Museum of African American History and Culture, and the Washington Monument, there was no doubt in his mind that it was terrorism and that White Dawn or Chaos Tree was behind it now.

Knowing, deep down in his heart, who was behind an attack that killed another thousand people didn’t bring much comfort. Chaos Tree didn’t even bother to deny it. They took to social media to claim responsibility for the attack, releasing a video of one of their men setting the bombs as proof. Text released along with the video claimed, We will do this again, in another city, until our brothers are free.

Mum called Kurt from England to check on him. “I don’t like you being over there,” she fretted. “It’s dangerous. You were so close to this attack! What if you’d been hurt! I’d be left with nothing, wouldn’t I?”

Kurt huffed out a little laugh. “Mum, you know you’re my sole beneficiary.”

“That’s not what I meant, Kurt.”

He glanced out the window. The skies were a bright blue, a kind of idyllic color they never got in London. It was hard to believe that only a few hours north was a scene of almost unimaginable carnage. “I know, Mum. But until I’ve made enough to support us both in the lifestyle to which I’d like for you to become accustomed, it’s where I have to be. But don’t worry. Soon I’ll be going to Arizona. It’s further out of the way. It’s not really a target for terrorists, is it? There’s nothing where I’m going but sand. No landmarks, no historical markers, nothing.”

She sniffed, mollified. “Sounds delightful. Call me soon, will you? I’ll be wanting to hear from you.”

“I will.” It was good to know, he supposed, that someone loved him enough to want to hear from him.

Kurt had expected the SEALs to be deployed immediately, but apparently that wasn’t how it worked. Since the attackers were local, the SEALs wouldn’t fight them at all. The current president made some noise about wanting to deploy the “full might of our armed services against our enemies and prove that we will not be cowed,” but they were just words. He wouldn’t actually deploy the military against US citizens.

Kurt didn’t have words to process his feelings about the attack. Orlando had been massive, but it had also been distant. He’d been on location in Malaysia at the time, shooting a film that was due to hit theaters soon. He’d been shaken by the scale, but it had been something that had happened far away. This had happened close by.

Within a few days, the scope of the disaster became all too real. DC hospitals filled up faster than they could handle, with injuries they hadn’t seen since 2001. They quickly evacuated patients, once stabilized, to hospitals in other areas. Some of those patients ended up at Portsmouth Naval Hospital.

Kurt only knew about that because he kept up with the news and because Dom told him about it. Kurt didn’t really grasp where Portsmouth Naval Hospital was until Dom pointed out that Mal, Nick, and Ben all worked there, so he guessed it must be close by. When Ben stopped by his hotel room one evening, though, Kurt found himself thrown for a loop.

He’d met Ben all of once. He’d liked him well enough. Ben had been a little on the shy side, but Kurt wasn’t in a position to cast stones about that. He did figure that Ben’s shyness and introversion would have stopped him from dropping in unannounced, if the guy’s own familiarity with celebrity lifestyle didn’t, but here Ben was standing on his doorstep. “Dr. Michaud!” He lifted his eyebrows, startled to see Ben there. “What brings you by?”

Ben stepped inside and gave a little grin. “I’m sorry to drop in like this. I know it’s a little on the creepy side. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted a promo opportunity.”

Kurt sat down. His stomach had been giving him extra trouble today, and he wasn’t feeling up to standing longer than he had to. “A promo opportunity? I mean I guess promo is always good, but what did you have in mind?”

Ben snorted. “Always ask. You’re smart. My mom, in her early career, got stuck doing promo at a convention with a kissing booth. Anyway, my hospital wound up with a pretty good chunk of victims from this week’s terror attacks. And I know you’ve had to step back from some of your SEAL…stuff…whatever you’re doing, because of security concerns.”

Kurt nodded. “I don’t mind. It’s good to get the character study in, but this is an extraordinary time. They’ve got a job to do and babysitting me isn’t part of it.”

Ben blinked at him, and then sat down. “Whose idea was the whole observation thing?”

“I would have been fine with just talking to some SEALs, maybe on their off time. Retired SEALs would have been okay too. I was less okay with the whole…you know.” He sighed. “I didn’t have to come to Virginia to know the part as written didn’t have much to do with the reality of being a SEAL.”

“I see.” Ben nodded slowly. “Well. Anyway. A lot of the wounded in the hospital are feeling pretty down. It might help if you came to visit them. You know, cheer them up a bit.”

Kurt blinked. “Me? Why me?”

Ben tilted his head. “Because you’re a famous movie star? They pay a lot just to get pictures of you walking from place to place?”

“But why would having some jerk of a movie star running around looking at them in the hospital make them feel the slightest bit better about their situation? I mean they’re lying there in a hospital johnny, they haven’t had a chance to wash or clean their teeth—why would they want to see me at all?” Kurt couldn’t get his head around this one. He wouldn’t want to see anyone at all if he were in the hospital.

Ben opened his mouth, and then he shut it again. “I don’t know. It does make a lot of people feel better, when their idols come in and see them.”

“I shouldn’t be anyone’s idol. Sure, they can admire me. I’m good at what I do, and I’m not hard on the eyes. But I’m not some kind of hero or anything. I haven’t done anything worth the word hero. I get up and play pretend on film!” Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. If you think it’ll actually help them or make them feel better or something, of course I’ll do it. They shouldn’t have to be there at all, they should be out and enjoying their lives. But it shouldn’t be a promo thing, okay? It should just be for them. I’d rather not do any announcements or press releases or anything like that.”

Ben’s eyes widened in shock. “Really? Most guys in your position would jump at any chance for a little free publicity.”

Kurt thought about Ben, and who his mother had been. He kept his snarky comment about publicity hounds to himself. “Well, you know, like I said, we’re in interesting times. Just do me a favor and don’t say anything to Elisa about it, will you?”

“Elisa?”

“She’s my assistant. She’ll want to turn it into some kind of press circus, and that’s the last thing any of your patients need. Is the day after tomorrow okay? That will give me time to have the studio overnight a bunch of promo items to give away. That way they’ll leave with something besides a few scars and a wheelchair.”

Ben grinned and shook his hand. “You know what? You’re a lot different from what the papers make you out to be.”

Kurt blushed. “The persona serves a purpose, but you know what? It might be time to retire it.”

Ben headed out, still smiling. Kurt headed over to his computer. He had a lot of thinking to do.

His first call went to the producer of the last movie he’d worked on. Mike had a lot of pull in the industry and with the studio, and he wasn’t as much of an asshole as some of them. He explained what he was planning to do, and he managed not to cringe when Mike tried to talk him into doing a press release. His stomach threatened to rebel when he presented his counterpoint.

“I hear you, Mike. I do. It would be good publicity for the film, but it might also come off as a little slick and smarmy, don’t you think? And it might not work as well as you think, given that the film won’t be released for another six months. If I go in without tooting my own horn, it will look a lot more organic, won’t it? And there’s no way it’s going to stay completely under wraps. Someone’s going to post a selfie. And another one.”

“That’s a good point, kid. I always knew there was something cooking under all that hair.” Mike chuckled into the handset. “So what, like guerrilla marketing, but actually being the good guys?”

“Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Kurt rolled his shoulders. He told himself he didn’t care what Mike thought about it, as long as he helped Kurt get what he needed.

“I still don’t see why you won’t just let Elisa handle this,” Mike continued. “That’s what she’s for, kid. You shouldn’t have to worry your pretty little head about things like this. It’s not your job. It’s fine that you are, don’t get me wrong, but you shouldn’t have to pressure yourself to take care of things like this. You’ve got an assistant for a reason. Let her assist.”

Did Mike just not know, or was he being deliberately dense? “Elisa’s fine for what she does,” Kurt lied. “But she’s not exactly great at listening. She’s got a full plate right now as it is. For now, let’s keep it between us.”

“Oh yeah, that thing with accounting. I heard about that. You know how gossip flies around here. Not too smart of her, considering what happened with your old man. I mean she should be twice as careful with your stuff. She knows you’re going to be watching her like a damn hawk, right?” Mike sighed. “Well, maybe she’s just got a lot on her mind and got sloppy. I’m sure she’ll figure it all out. She’s got a great reputation. Good luck with this thing you’ve got going on. It’s good of you, kid.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

“And hey, I’ve got this project coming up. It’s another location shot, this time in Iceland. It’s a rom com. Interested?”

“I’m willing to take a look at the script, sure. Send it on over.”

“Want me to send it to you direct, or do you need me to send it to that creeper agent you’ve got?”

“Just send it to me, Mike.” Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t need to get him involved at this point. I’m looking to take a more active role.”

“Are you? Well, good for you.” Mike didn’t sound like he was teasing. “Let me know what you think. If you like it, we can talk timing and all that.”

“I’ll do that.” Kurt hung up after a few more pleasantries, but he had to laugh at himself. He would never have been able to stand up for himself that way if it weren’t for Dom.

* * *

Dom helped bring all the swag up to the hospital. So did Hopper, because he might as well, and Floyd, because he wanted to see how this went. All three alphas were needed, because Kurt’s studio sent enough swag to give something to each and every patient in the hospital. Even the newborns in the nursery got little baby blankets branded with something from a movie about omegas and a pregnancy pact, and if that didn’t make Dom roll his eyes nothing would.

“Were you actually in that one?” he asked Kurt.

“Er, yeah, but my dad signed that contract for me. I was all of sixteen in it. You don’t have to watch the movie if you don’t want to.” Kurt blushed. “In fact, I’d take it as a personal favor if you didn’t.”

Dom decided he didn’t need to ask any more than that.

They went to the pediatrics ward first, because Kurt had a lot of teenaged fans and plenty of the survivors had been school-aged tourists. Not all of the kids on the ward were big fans when he walked in, but every single one of them was a huge fan by the time he was done.

He signed casts. He signed hospital johnnies. He sat down at fifty bedsides—even kids who hadn’t been involved with the attack—and listened to them talk about their injuries, their schools, their friends. He held one girl’s hand while she worked out her anxiety about a friend she hadn’t heard from yet, and held a twelve-year-old boy while he sobbed out his grief for the six classmates he’d lost at the Washington Monument.

Dom watched in amazement. If Kurt was acting a part, or doing it for the publicity, none of it was apparent here. They’d avoided any kind of media circus, and Kurt had even lied to Sommer, telling her they were going out to research the stupid Hap role. So maybe he was being sincere, after all.

He leaned over to Hopper and muttered as they watched from the doorway of a fifteen-year-old girl’s room. Her parents were among the missing, and she hadn’t spoken since the attack. She hadn’t spoken, that was, until her hero walked into her room. Even though she had three broken ribs, internal injuries, and a broken arm, she’d tried to jump out of the bed to greet him.

“It’s easy to forget this is all a publicity stunt,” Dom said as they watched Kurt sit down beside his young fan.

Hopper frowned over at him. “Did he say that?”

“Huh? No. Of course not. He didn’t say much, just asked for help with all the crap. Why?”

“Because he asked Ben specifically not to tell the media. It really isn’t a stunt, bro. He really is just this good. It’s a little weird that he got all this swag from his movies, but the studio was probably going to do what it was going to do.” He huffed out a laugh and grinned, that grin that launched a thousand ships. “I’ve had a chance to learn something about that, since I’ve been with Ben.”

“Huh.” Dom watched some more as Kurt coaxed some words out of the teen, and even coaxed a little bit of food into her. Then, Kurt did something Dom wasn’t expecting at all. “Can I introduce some friends of mine? Because Chelsea, I appreciate your support, and I’m glad you’re my fan, but I’m not a hero. I haven’t done anything worth that title. These guys, though? They’re real-life Navy SEALs. The stuff you see on TV and the movies? It’s nothing compared to what these men do to keep you and me and everyone else safe, yeah?”

Chelsea’s eyes widened. “How come you know them?”

“I’ve been hanging out with them to study for a role.” He turned his head to look right at Dom. “Come on in, guys. Chelsea, this is my friend Dominic. This is Dave Hopper, and this is Vincent Floyd. They’re just part of the big team of people doing their best to fight all of this evil right now.”

Chelsea looked up at Dom, Hopper, and Floyd with those big green eyes of hers. “You’re really SEALs? I figured that was just something they made up for TV.” She looked away. “My mom and I like to watch those shows.”

“Well hopefully, if we can find her, you can tell her you got to meet some real-life SEALs and they were even more awesome in person.” Kurt gave her the kind of grin people shared when they had a secret between them. “I can promise you, they are. Here, let me get a picture of you with them.”

Chelsea nodded as eagerly as she could, and the nurse watched in amazement as the withdrawn teenager smiled for a selfie with the three SEALs and then with Kurt. The nurse looked over at Dom. “I have no idea how he did it, but he’s really pulled Chelsea out of her shell. It’s amazing.”

“I had no idea he could do this,” he admitted quietly.

It wasn’t just teenagers Kurt could enthrall, either. “So, uh, we’ve got an FBI Agent we’ve been working with, and also someone with Navy Intelligence.” Hopper ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe we could get a swab of Chelsea’s DNA and lean on Aliprandi and Baldinotti to speed up the process with her parents. It’s got to be worth a shot, right?”

Dom wanted to scream, because they weren’t supposed to do that kind of thing. But Kurt beamed up at Hopper so gratefully, and Chelsea’s face was so hopeful, that Dom could only nod. “It can’t hurt.” His voice was rough, and he was surprised to find a lump in his throat. “I don’t want to give you false hope or anything like that. There’s a lot of chaos around right now, and they’ve got their own procedures and priorities. If they can stop another bombing…”

“Then they have to do that.” Chelsea nodded, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “But if it’s something they can do…”

“Then they’ll do it for you. Or someone will.” Floyd put his hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “I promise you that.”

Chelsea was the last survivor on that floor. Their next stop was one of the adult wards.

Once they were in the elevator heading up, Dom turned to Kurt. “That was pretty impressive, I have to say. You seemed pretty into it.”

“I was pretty into it.” Kurt yawned and leaned back against Dom for support. “It sounds stupid, and it feels kind of ridiculous. I’ll be the first one to admit that. I mean why would they feel any better just because some actor goes to see them, right? But it does seem to work, so I have to do it. Look at them. They’re in a ton of pain, some of them will have their lives changed forever, and seeing me gives them a little bit of relief.” He blew out a stream of breath. “That’s an awful lot of responsibility.”

“I guess it is.” Dom wrapped an arm around his lover. Kurt had seemed incredibly tired lately. Why was that? “Is that why you brought us in there? To spread it around?”

“No. I did it because I shouldn’t be anyone’s hero.” He stood up straighter as the elevator came to a stop. “All right. Fourth floor, oncology. Here we go.”

“Oncology?” Floyd followed him out. “I thought we were just here to see victims of the bombings.”

“I don’t want regular patients to feel resentful or left out. It’s only me, but being in the hospital is one of the dullest and most miserable experiences in the world. So my mum tells me. Even the best places can only do so much. If it breaks the day up a little bit, why not?”

So they visited every patient ward in the hospital. The geriatric ward didn’t receive Kurt as warmly as the other floors did, but Kurt didn’t seem to expect them to. The ones who kept up with celebrity gossip made it clear what they thought about his shenanigans, and the rest just treated him like they would any other stranger. Kurt didn’t seem to let it get him down, though.

“They’re old enough that they don’t have to care about hurting someone else’s pride,” he said. He’d gotten visibly more exhausted as they went from ward to ward. Dom put a hand on his back, wishing he could transfer his energy right into his lover. “They can just call it like they see it and move on. They don’t have to BS it anymore.”

“Okay, but they’re being hurtful to you. And I don’t like that.” Floyd and Hopper moved a little way ahead to give them some privacy. “That last old man who called you a whore, I wanted to punch his dentures right out. I didn’t because he’s old and I wasn’t raised in a barn, but you know what I mean.”

Kurt let out a little laugh. “Dom, honey, it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing. And it’s okay. He’s not wrong.”

Dom stopped right there, in the middle of the hallway. “Kurt…”

Kurt stroked his face. “It’s okay, Dom. I have been promiscuous and I know it. I’m behaving myself now, and I don’t want anyone else. But you know what I’ve been doing with myself, for years. And if you weren’t right here with me I’d probably still be doing it. In his generation, a parent would have locked me up by now.”

“Okay, but in his generation you couldn’t have got rid of your dad for stealing from you, either.” Dom scowled and put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m a little under the weather.” Kurt shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Probably just a bug or a flu I picked up on a plane or something. I’ll be fine.”

“No. I don’t think so. I know we haven’t seen much of each other for the past few weeks, because of the bombing and the whole thing, but I have noticed you’ve been getting worse. You’re tired, you’re picking at your food more than you’re eating it, and neither of those are normal for you. Let’s stop in downstairs and talk to Dr. Ben, okay?” Dom rubbed the tops of Kurt’s arms.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to bother someone in the ER, Dom. I’ve always been as healthy as a horse. My stomach just gets a little weird when I’m anxious, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Humor me.” Dom met Kurt’s eyes and didn’t look away. “If you’re going to go giving people lines about what a hero I am, then give me the courtesy of letting me take care of you, okay? Let me bring you downstairs and have Ben check you out.”

Kurt heaved a sigh so dramatic he might have been a teenager again, but he followed Dom down to the ER.

Ben came out to greet them and whisked them not into a treatment room, but into a conference room. He pulled the shades down and grabbed Nick Fitzpatrick, too. “I know seeing people in pain can be a harrowing experience,” he said. “Is that why you’re looking a little gray?”

Dom would have laughed at the naked outrage on Kurt’s face if the situation didn’t seem so grim. “Gray!” Kurt stood up from his chair. “I never!”

“Calm down, babe. He’s not wrong. You’re still beautiful, don’t worry. He’s just making an observation that you’re probably sick.” Dom rubbed circles into Kurt’s stiff, tense back. “Come on. Settle back down. There we go.”

Kurt glowered at Dom and threw himself into a chair, while Ben and Nick tried to hide their grins with their hands. “I see,” Ben said, calming himself quickly. “Can you describe your symptoms?”

Kurt glowered again. Dom snorted. The guy must think he could communicate with his eyes or something. “My stomach’s been acting up a bit, which is perfectly normal for me when things are stressful. And they have been stressful, ever since they closed that dreadful bar down.”

“And?” Ben tilted his head to the side.

“And nothing.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

“And you could barely make it through the hospital today. You’ve been sleeping nonstop for weeks.” Dom looked at Ben, not at Kurt. “Is it just the flu, or is it something more serious?”

Ben and Nick exchanged long glances, and Nick took Kurt’s hand. “We’re going to need a urine sample. Don’t worry, I’ll do the test myself so it’s completely discreet.” He led Kurt out a back door.

They were gone for five minutes, during which Dom stayed completely silent. A pee sample wasn’t a big deal, right? A blood test would be worse. Or scans, which they’d call “pictures.” A urinalysis was almost routine.

When they came back, Nick met Ben’s eyes and nodded once. Kurt couldn’t look up. He just slumped down into a chair and looked down at the ground. “What is it, what’s wrong?” Dom reached out and took Kurt’s hand.

Ben put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “We need your permission to say anything, Kurt.”

Kurt snorted. “Go ahead. Tell him. It’s not like he shouldn’t know.”

Dom wrinkled his nose, puzzled by the way Kurt had phrased his words.

Nick took a deep breath. “Van Heel, congratulations. You’re going to be a father.”

All of the feeling left Dom’s hands and feet. His own voice came from far away. “Come again?”

“A father, Van Heel.” Ben cleared his throat. “The non-carrier parent of a child, if you want to be gender-neutral and specific about it.”

“That’s impossible.” Dom pushed away from the table. “That’s—that’s not possible. We’re—we use condoms, every time. We’re careful.”

Ben snorted. “Look, I’m sure you do. Condoms make pregnancy less likely. They don’t make it impossible. Go ahead, ask me how I know.” He put a hand right on Kurt’s back, where Dom’s belonged. “The fact is, you’re having a baby, with Kurt McNeil.” He tugged at his collar. “I’m guessing you and he have a lot to talk about. But anyway, congratulations. Based on symptoms, you’re probably about five or six weeks along. You’ve got time to make decisions and think things through.”

He turned to Kurt, hand still on him. “Look. I’ll be the first to tell you having a child with a SEAL can be an adventure at times. If you want to talk, any time, just give me a call.” He passed Kurt a card and looked Dom up and down. “For any reason,” he added, and left the room.

Nick wrote his number down on a card, too, and passed it to Kurt. “Likewise. Don’t be a stranger, okay? Me, the Doc, and Mal—we’ve all been through it. Just give us a call.”

“Thanks.” Kurt smiled, but his voice was muted and quiet.

Ben and Nick left the room. Dom was alone with Kurt now. It was the absolute last place he wanted to be.