Nick yawned and pulled into the parking lot. His muscles ached from carrying boxes.  He and Sammy didn’t have a lot of stuff between them, but he sure as hell felt like a hoarder this morning.  Maybe he should have taken some time off to rest and recover after the move, but he wasn’t quite so comfortable with their financial situation yet. No, he was here for his first day at work. 

He might not be bright eyed or bushy tailed, but he was here and he was ready.  That would have to do.

He walked into the entrance and looked at the directory. Sure there were nice volunteers who could direct him, but he was barely human before coffee. He didn't want to risk insulting someone, or something like that. Besides, if he couldn't read the directions to Personnel for himself, he'd be in a pretty sorry state, wouldn't he?

Someone else already stood at the directory, scanning for something with a look of confusion that probably mirrored Nick's own. The guy was on the tall side, with wild red hair and a well-trimmed beard. He didn't jump or flinch when he saw Nick, but he did give Nick a searching look. Was he checking for something? Did Nick have spinach in his teeth? Huh. Well, paranoid people showed up everywhere. "You here for new employee orientation too?" the man asked. He had an accent. If Nick had to guess, he was probably Irish.

Nick nodded. "Yeah. It's my first day. I just got hired as an ER nurse."

The Irish guy laughed. "They must churn them up and spit them out here. I'm here for the same thing.” He held out a hand. "I'm Mal Kelly.”

Nick relaxed, just a little bit. Was it him, or did this guy seem a little bit too friendly? It wasn't something he was used to. "Nick Kosloski. Pleased to meet you. Should we find our way up together?"

They headed up, in a rickety old elevator, toward the administration area. "They say this is a historic building.” Mal grimaced and looked at the elevator. "The elevator is historic, at least."

Nick snorted. "I'm sure it doesn't seem historic to you, where you're from. I'm from Nebraska. Everything in Virginia seems older than Nebraska."

Mal snickered. "Well yeah, I guess these things are relative. I'm still getting used to things, I suppose.” The elevator stopped, and he stepped out. "In Europe, we don't know much about America except what we see in the news or film. I was absolutely convinced that America was controlled by roaming militias that looked like something out of Mad Max—rolling porcupines of armament."

Nick laughed at that. "So why would you come, if we sounded so lawless?"

Mal shrugged. "I got pregnant. The father was a SEAL, and so here I am. I'm learning to like it here, though.” He spread his hands. "For one thing, I get to learn a lesson about believing a news clip shows the whole story about a place, yeah?"

Something in Nick's belly twisted. Mal came to America to be with the father of his child. Nick hadn't gotten anything but shame and ridicule and struggle—but hey. He'd started out in America. He guessed they were kind of even. "Were you a nurse in Ireland?"

Mal smirked. "France, actually. It's a nice place to work. I worked at the naval base at Toulon, in their emergency department, so this will be familiar at least.” He opened the door for Nick. "After you."

Mal and Nick were civilian employees. The people running Personnel were not. They handed them clipboards and directed them to a room with crisp efficiency, and both men got to work filling out forms.

Plenty of other people were filling out forms, too. Most of them were women. Nick had gotten used to being the only man in the room. Mal seemed to be newer to the experience, but he didn't seem to have any problems either. So far, so good.

Once the forms were complete, the crew found themselves ushered into an auditorium. A woman in fatigues stood up at the podium and identified herself as the chief medical corpsman for this facility. She gave them all a talk about expectations of civilian employees. Portsmouth served military members, veterans, and their families throughout the area. Given the proximity of Portsmouth to a major naval base and to the SEAL facility in Virginia Beach, that meant a lot of Navy personnel. They received quite a few patients from other branches, too, and they didn’t discriminate.

She spoke about the building and about the facility's history. She spoke about the chain of command and about the unique demands that would be placed on them. "I know you're up to it because we hired you. I know you won't let us down."

And that was it.

They were dismissed to their respective departments. Mal and Nick made their way down to Emergency, where a supervisor named Jenny gave them a tour and told them to get changed. They would be closely monitored for the first couple of weeks, while they adjusted to hospital policies and procedures. This would be especially true for Mal, whose work experience was all foreign.

"That's not to shame you," she told him. "I came here from Korea, and they kept a close eye on me, too. Some things take a little getting used to—especially giving some responses in English.” She winked at him.

Then they were turned loose on the patients.

Most of the patients Nick dealt with were ambulatory. That was what he was used to, anyway.  He got workers with nails stuck through their hands or folks with bad cases of strep and no primary care doctor.  He saw alcohol poisoning and dehydration, and he saw enough bone injuries to make him want to take away Sammy’s skateboard forever.

They had a few cases of food poisoning. It was early July, time for cookouts and barbecues, and those always came with hazards. Listeria did not care that you fought at Iwo Jima. E. Coli had no interest in your valor during Vietnam, and frankly, if Nick never saw another Special Forces serviceman who thought he was too tough to need to clean his cooking implements thoroughly, it would be too soon.

He kept his thoughts and his judgment to himself, though. What did he know about what went on at home? Maybe they'd gone over to someone else's house and hadn't known about the cleanliness of their knives. He prepped the IV lines and kept them hydrated all the same.

They got burns, too. Kids touched hot grills, stoves, or campfires. It was easier for Nick to withhold judgment here. How his own son had made it to ten, he had no idea. Kids got away from you, even when you watched them like a hawk. It was inevitable. Sure there were cases of abuse, but most of the time kids just did stuff.

Adults got burned too. The biggest culprit was fireworks. These jobs were harder, because the burns could be bad, and they were often contaminated.

Nick's day went by in a flash, and before he knew it he was ready to go pick up his son from the camp bus.

Sammy had loved his first day at camp. He'd made some friends already, and to hear him tell it, he'd spent the whole time up a tree like a monkey. Nick couldn't help but smile as he drove them home to Portsmouth.

The house wasn't great, but it was theirs, they could afford it, and that is what mattered. Maybe the schools weren't so hot either, but they'd do for now. Once Nick had saved up a little bit of money, they'd be able to move somewhere with better schools. And Sammy would eventually go to college, and he'd get a job someplace awesome. Someplace that would let him use his natural engineering talents, just like his dad.

Not that Sammy's alpha dad would know, or care, but whatever.

Sammy was exhausted by his first day at camp. He went to bed early, and Nick took the time to do some unpacking. He worked in the kitchen, because that was the easiest. When he couldn't do anymore, he went to bed. He slept like the dead until his alarm went off, when he woke up to do it all over again.

Work was always busy, but that was best. Nick wouldn't have wanted to work someplace with a lot of down time. Down time inevitably led to layoffs. Nick had been there and done that. That was one of the reasons he'd eventually gone into nursing. He wanted a career with more security than anything else available to a single omega parent. Sure, layoffs happened, but someone was always looking to hire nurses somewhere.

Most of the other nurses were nice enough, but the folks who'd started at about the same time tended to stick together. It just made sense. Everyone was going through the same things and trying to navigate the same waters. No one had anything closer to the same experiences than Mal, and Nick found himself gravitating closer and closer to the Irish nurse.

Mal didn't tend to get assigned to the same cases as Nick. Mal apparently had military experience and critical care experience. He'd even done some medical flight work, or so one of the other nurses told him. Mal got stuck on the hard cases. He took the ambulance cases and the med flight cases. He also took the guys who came in with gunshot wounds, or mangled from car wrecks, and the guys from training accidents.

Mal was still the only other omega on their shift. He didn't seem to be bothered by the difference in cases they worked, either. "It's still work," he said, when Nick asked him about it. "And honestly, considering what I used to do, I'm probably better suited to it. My Da was one of those ultra-macho tough guys. I wouldn't have been allowed to go to hospital for something like food poisoning. I didn't think I was allowed to go to hospital to have a baby, for crying out loud."

"That's nuts.” Nick didn't bother sugar coating it. Nurses rarely did that anyway.

"Well I know that now.” Mal smirked. "Anyway, I'm more comfortable in the thick of the other sort of thing."

Nick figured that made sense. He also found himself grateful no one like Mal's dad had been allowed near his Sammy.

After a couple of weeks, Mal approached him on a Friday evening. "Listen, Nick, I know this is kind of short notice, and I don't know if you've got plans for the weekend. My husband, Trent, is coming back from deployment tonight. I want to have a little get-together with his platoon at the condo to celebrate. It's nothing big, just a little gathering, but if you and your son wanted to stop by that would be nice.” He blushed. "I don't know many people in the area, just them, really."

Nick had to smile. "I don't know anyone, other than you and the girls, so I'd be honored."

The party was set for Sunday. Nick and Sammy didn't so much dress up as clean up. A little get-together at a condo for a bunch of SEALs didn't sound like a terribly formal affair, and ten-year-old boys pretty much never did formal anyway.

The party was just getting underway when they showed up. It wasn’t too crowded, although there were more people there than Nick had seen in a social context since high school. The smell of beer wafted through the condo, accompanied by the strains of soft alt-rock music.  Mal was obviously there, accompanied by a beautiful red-headed infant and a tall, handsome SEAL he introduced as Trent. There were a few other men there, all identified as SEALs, and Nick couldn't keep track of all of their names. All he knew was they were all perfectly nice and breathtakingly gorgeous.

"Is there a requirement that SEALs have to be hot?” he whispered to Mal, as they brought another round of beers out to the guys in the backyard.

"I'm not sure. I think there must be, for this platoon at least. They're not even all here yet.” Mal looked so much more relaxed now that he was with his husband. At work Mal was all business, but here he could just duck under his husband’s arm. A contented glow surrounded him as he surveyed the party, head on Trent’s shoulder.

Nick would have been lying if he said he wasn't jealous.

The SEALs kept coming. Nick appreciated their beauty, until one came to the door Nick could never have forgotten.

Tom had gotten older since they were kids, but he still looked like Tom. His muscles had filled out, and his tight tee shirt made sure everyone around knew it too. His dog tags bounced between his pectorals like a decoration, as he laughed and joked with his friends.

Nick ran through a whole gamut of emotions. He wanted to run up and punch Tom right in that square jaw of his, for having left the way he did. He wanted to throw his arms around that narrow waist and beg to know what he'd done wrong. Most of him wanted to grab Sammy and run, take him as far away from Tom, Portsmouth, and Virginia as his feet could carry them.

Tom's easy grin disappeared when he saw Nick. "You have got to be shitting me!” He curled his lip. "You have got a lot of balls showing your face anywhere near me."

The party dropped into a stunned silence.  Someone dropped a piece of popcorn, and it sounded like a bomb when it hit the laminate floor.

"Me?” Any urge Nick might have had to seek forgiveness, or anything else, from Tom disappeared. "You think I sought you out? Eleven years and you think I sought you out? You can go straight to hell, Tom Fitzpatrick!"

Trent, Mal's husband, stepped in between them. "Hey. Listen. I don't know what's going on here, but this is supposed to be a happy occasion.” He turned to Tom. "Can we maybe be civil? Maybe you and me can go out back?"

"I ain't staying where he is.” Tom turned on his heel.

"Run like you always did.” Nick grabbed Sammy's hand. "Come on, sweetie. I don't want to be within ten miles of that deadbeat."

"Aw, you've got a kid. Where's the dad? Some scumbag you met in a bar?” Tom turned his back. "I always knew you were a tramp."

Nick snapped. He dropped Sammy's hand, shoved his way past Trent, and punched Tom in the face. "That child is your goddamn son!When you left, you son of a bitch, you know you left me pregnant. You're a deadbeat and a piece of shit, Tom Fitzpatrick. You don't deserve these good people, and you sure as hell don't deserve whatever nice family you built after us.” He grabbed the now gaping Sammy and left.

Sammy didn't speak a word until they got on the road. "That was my dad?"

Nick gripped the steering wheel. "Yeah, son. He was."

Sammy considered that as he stared out the window. Then he sighed. "Wow, Dad. You have awful taste in guys."

***

Tom stared at the door that slammed behind his high school boyfriend. No one moved. No one spoke for a good five minutes. Then Lupo turned to him. "Dude. You have just used up your entire drama allowance for the next ten years."

"Are you kidding?” Tinker grabbed a bowl of popcorn off the coffee table and tossed a piece up into the air. "That's, like, tele-novella level stuff. I'll be living on this for weeks, and the best part is I won't need a dictionary. At all!"

Tom flipped him off. "This is my life, you know."

"And your kid, you know.” Mal glared at him.

Tom waved a hand. "You don't believe that shit, do you? If he'd been pregnant, don't you think he'd have told me? Or someone? Gotten word to me somehow? It's bullshit, it's all bullshit. There's no kid, no nothing.” He rubbed at his face.

"Wow.” Iniguez stood up and went to the galley kitchen. "You did see the kid, right? Because he looks just like you."

"He looks just like you," Hopper drawled, "and then he heard you call his dad a 'tramp.' Who says tramp anymore, Fitzpatrick? What year is this, 1926?"

Trent shook his head. "Don't you want to be sure? They're right. The kid does look just like you. Go find him, and get a DNA test. That should be enough to tell you everything you need to know."

"Get a lawyer too.” Baudin lifted his head up. "Get the lawyer to go about getting the DNA. Don't interact with the guy directly. It's not worth it. You obviously don't like him very much, and he's obviously not your biggest fan either. Just go through a lawyer, and everything should be easier."

Mal stood up. He was still cradling that baby of his. No one would ever doubt whose kid that was. He had Mal's hair, but Trent's complexion and nose. "I do feel I need to stand up for my friend," he said in an icy tone. "And for a fellow omega. Do you honestly believe he'd have put himself through the misery of being a single parent in the Bible Belt for the pleasure of it? And do you think he's got the cash to hire a lawyer?"

"Then he should have thought of that before he started throwing around accusations.” Baudin stood up too. "People love to accuse SEALs of being the father. They'd love to get a piece of our death benefits for their brats."

"Trust me, Baudin. He didn't come here looking to get stuck with a tie to one of you.” Mal's voice dripped contempt, and he turned around to look at the rest of them. "And wouldn't he have been a little friendlier if that were his strategy? But no. You hate omegas so much you think we're all just out to trap a SEAL into some kind of union, looking to get our hands on your bennies."

Baudin sneered. "Aren't you?” He gestured to the condo.

Mal jumped to his feet. Kelly slid between him and Baudin, like he was going to separate them, but his jaw was clenched.

Tom had to speak up here. "That's enough, Baudin. If you want to talk shit about Kelly's husband, don't pretend you're defending me while you do it.” He stuck his hands in his pocket. "I will get a lawyer. That's a good idea, but this thing you've got going on where you just hate on omegas? You need counseling."

He left the party before he could see Kelly and Baudin get into it. Or worse, before he could see Baudin and Mal get into it. Mal wasn't a joke when it came to fighting, and he wouldn't feel compelled to fight clean either. Kelly and Baudin had the brotherly bond, not Mal.

He started looking for a lawyer as soon as he got home. Sure, the kid looked like him, but it wasn’t like Bow String, Nebraska had a huge gene pool.  It took a few days to find someone who could help him, thanks to the wonderful game of phone tag, but he finally found one. He couldn’t afford to sleep on this. He wouldn’t have thought Nick was the kind of guy who would try to soak him for child support, but he wouldn’t have thought Nick would hang him out to dry either.

Darrell Green was willing to take on his case for what seemed like a reasonable sum. "It shouldn't even be that hard. If he's looking for child support, he should be willing enough to prove paternity."

Green called him the next day. "Actually, this might be more complicated than I thought. Mr. Kosloski has secured an attorney, and a damn fine one too. His response, through said attorney, was to tell you to go to hell. He says he doesn't want child support. The child in question says he doesn't want contact with you, and Mr. Kosloski says he's going before a judge to prevent any contact between you and him or you and the child."

Tom gaped. "That's...that doesn't make any sense. Why would he do that?"

Green sighed. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, and I haven't spoken to Mr. Kosloski directly. You told me you never heard from him after your little...incident...back in Bow String. Maybe there's more to the story. If he's telling the truth, and if you are the father—"

"Then he damn well should have let me know!” Tom punched the wall behind him. It hurt. He didn't think he'd broken the knuckle, though.

"Well, based on what you've told me, there might not have been time. Think about this, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Think about whether or not there are other sides to this story, other ways that this could have played out, other than the way it did in your head. See if there's anyone who might be willing to help facilitate a conversation."

Tom gritted his teeth. "I'll take that under advisement. Thank you."

He approached Trent at base the next day. "Have you seen Baudin?"

Trent squirmed. "It was an accident. I swear."

Tom stared at him.

"Okay, it wasn't an accident. Baudin threw the first punch. He'll be back in six to eight weeks, depending on how the arm heals, and he owes me for every piece of glassware we had to replace.” Trent sighed. "They had to take him to someplace that wasn't Portsmouth, too, because no one in the ER would treat him."

Tom covered his face with his hands. "That's because of me."

Trent gave him a hard look. "It's because Baudin had a bad breakup and because his parents tried to make him pretend to be an omega. Okay? This isn't your fault.” He sighed. "What's going on?"

Tom rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was kind of hoping Mal could help me out with something."

Trent let out a whistle. "You don't ask for much, do you?"

Tom grinned. "If anyone's going to be able to do it, it's Mal. Come on.” He fussed with his keys. "So I got a lawyer and tried to get a blood test from the kid, but it turns out Nick already got a lawyer."

"Yeah, I know. Mal paid for it."

"How?” Tom shook his head. "That's one of those things we probably don't want to know about. Anyway, Nick says he doesn't want child support, and he doesn't want contact with me. The kid says he doesn't want me either. I just want to know what he does want, if he says I'm the father."

Trent pursed his lips and looked away. "I don't think he wants anything, man. Did he know you were even around here?"

"I don't know. He must have!"

"Or not. I'll talk to Mal, see if he'll talk to you. But I'm pretty sure his decision to come here had nothing at all to do with you.” He grinned. "Believe it or not, after ten or eleven years, omegas' lives don't usually revolve around their high school sweethearts anymore."

Tom had to laugh at himself. "Okay, point taken, but—something's just not making sense here. I have to get to the bottom of it."

Mal agreed to meet him at a local bar the next night, with Trent in tow. He didn't look thrilled about the meet up. "Danny's with your uncles," he told Trent as he took a seat. He was still in his scrubs.

They ordered a round of drinks and a plate of appetizers. "It's been a long day," he said. "There was a training accident at the Naval Station and it was ugly.” He pressed his lips together and turned his dark eyes over to Tom. "Well? What is it you wanted to talk about?"

It was an underwhelming invitation, but it was still an invitation. "Something's not adding up," he said. "I'm going to tell you something pretty confidential.” He glanced at Trent, who mimed zipping his lip before he continued. 'There was an incident in high school, my senior year. I didn't do it, but I was around when it happened. The local sheriff thought it was easier to blame it on the 'queer kid' than the mayor's son. I had the choice to either join the Navy or to get prosecuted for a crime I didn't commit.”

"I was basically run out of town on a rail. I never heard from anyone in town again, outside of my own family I mean. I had been dating Nick, but he dropped me like a rock too.” He took a deep breath. "The other day was the first time I'd seen anyone from those days. I haven't been back. I can't. I'll be arrested.” He gripped his fork hard enough to bend it. "He should have fucking told me."

"He did fucking tell you.” Mal shrugged as their waitress approached. "Not you. As far as he's concerned, you just disappeared. He doesn't think you're capable of what they said you did. He believed in you. But he did call up your parents and tell them he was pregnant, and you were the father."

"Bullshit." Tom smacked his hand on the table. "I'd have paid for that kid. I'd have supported him. I'd have married Nick."

"Well, obviously you need to talk to someone, and yell at someone who isn't Nick about it. Your mother told Nick he was a whore. Nick's mum said the same thing, more or less, and kicked him out. He had been intending to go to college for English, but that went away. He bounced from lousy job to lousy job, until he could afford a part-time nursing program. He's finally got his BSN, and Portsmouth hired him. That's why he's here. It's nothing to do with you.”

"He'd leave, but he can't afford it. Now he's in an absolute panic, because you called him a whore in front of his kid—the one you gave him—and you came around demanding blood tests. It's been a hard, harsh life for him.” Mal grabbed Trent's hand and squeezed it. "He loves that son of his, though. Sammy's a good kid. Strong. Smart. Good at maths. He'll go far. He wants to be a scientist."

Tom thought his throat might be closing. "I can't believe my parents would do something like that to me."

Mal sipped from his drink. "This is a good drink. What is it, the Bee's Knees? Fitzpatrick look, what happened with you and your parents, that's not my business. To put it bluntly, I don't care. It's not my problem. I hope you can resolve it. My concern is my colleague and friend, and his son.” He sat back and smiled.

Tom swallowed. "Fair enough. Do you think there's any hope he'd be willing to talk?"

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want that."

"What does he want?"

"He's just barely got on his feet, Tom.” Mal tilted his head, just a little. It gave him a softer look. "He wants to be left alone."

"I don't know if I can do that. If that's my son, I need to be responsible.” Tom ran his tongue along his teeth, trying to think of the right way to phrase what was on his mind. "They shouldn't have had to struggle, or at least not alone. I can't change the past, but I can do the right thing now."