Chapter Five

Frederick

 

In the end, despite my plan to go to a bar and drink, I end up back at base.  I guess by habit more than anything, surely not a desire to.  And when I do return, I’m soon notified that I will not be deployed for any missions or work detail. Now that I have a legal case pending, I won’t be cleared for duty until the case is resolved.

It wasn’t what I was expecting, but not all that surprising either. This is yet another hassle that makes me regret going to counseling and opening my damn mouth. If I had just kept any and all of that to myself… oh, fuck it, what’s the point. It’s done and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’ve been moved out of my room and to a more secretive and well-patrolled part of the base. For my safety they say. I can’t help but feel like I’m being punished. Like I’m the one getting in trouble for being a victim and acknowledging the wrongdoing that was done to me.

There’s nothing I can do about any of it now. It’s out of my control. That’s the single sobering thought I have to keep me company as I find my way to my new room and contemplate what the next few weeks or months of my life are going to be like.

I shuffle inside my room not bothering to do much more than find a small chair, by an equally small desk, and sit in it. I put my head in my hands, feeling as closed off to the outside world as the heavy metal door separating my room from the rest of the base. I drag my fingers down my face still smelling the overly clean aroma of the counselor’s furniture. “God…” My mind wanders to Captain Gibson and his tall and muscular form. The way his hair is a beautiful chestnut brown, with just a tiny bit of gray speckled on the sides. “I didn’t want to get him involved. I didn’t want to even bring his name up, and there it is. Look what I’ve done. And after everything he’s done for me...after how patient and kind he’s been. I think of how he’s never ridiculed me for being cold or disconnected like some of my other peers or superiors have done.”

I lean back in my chair feeling my soul creak along with worn, wooden legs underneath me. I should’ve just let my superiors put whatever punishments they wanted to on me for refusing treatment. Refusing orders after showing aggression to Officer McEwen. I hear and see him making fun of me again, gesturing and pantomiming me sucking every cock on base. If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now in this horrible situation.

After those thoughts, I don’t bother to speak or think anymore and decide to clear my mind and keep it as empty as possible. But whatever silence I’m able to come by is quickly disturbed by a knock on my door.

At the sound, an odd thrill — a strange electricity goes through me — and some part of me knows I’m going to be surprised by who’s on the other end. I get up from my seat at the desk and go to the door.

Surprise is definitely what I feel when I see who’s come to visit me. But terror and confusion quickly accompany the surprise. It’s Captain Gibson. Looking at him standing there, I barely register his greeting or request to come in and talk. My head’s too busy racing and trying to grasp the immediate situation. How did he find me here? How did he find these rooms, they are not my typical haunting grounds. I was just moved here less than an hour ago in response to the charges that were brought against him, because of my stupid choice to share in that “safe space.”

Captain Gibson steps a little closer, almost over my threshold, but not quite.

“Can I come in? I just want to talk to you about what’s happened, Frederick.”

I can’t muster up my body to do anything or my mouth to speak. I’m standing there, frozen. How did he find out I was here? These rooms are supposed to be difficult to find. More secretive. My name’s not even written anywhere on the outside. So how did he find me so quickly?

“I’m not going to do you any harm,” Captain Gibson says, moving closer to me, then moving into the room. And instead of inviting him in, I just move aside slightly.

“I promise I’m just here to talk. I’m just here to get clarity, okay?”

He reaches over to flick on the light in the room, then leans in to switch on a small lamp nearby. Probably for our safety and security as well as to show anyone that he’s not doing anything funny with me.

“I don’t understand, Frederick. I don’t understand the charges you brought against me. Where or why they’ve come.” His eyes, usually bright are now almost a bronzed brown color. They look sad.

Seeing this sadness and loss within him, I feel unbelievably guilty—tortured actually, even more than I already did before he showed up. Before I realize what I’m doing, I rush up and try to hug him. I say.

“Captain Gibson, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean… I didn’t want any of these charges to happen. I didn’t want them to be brought.”

Before I can even get a few fingers near him, Captain Gibson pushes me away. Not roughly or in a mean spirited way, but resolutely. I stumble back, surprised—shocked and hurt by the energy I feel coming from him. He’s looks angry, confused and irritated by my attempt to hug him.

“Not going to happen, Frederick. I know you feel guilty and I know someone probably made you claim that it was me who did things to you, but I’m not here to argue, and you’re not going to hug me or touch me in any way.”

I nod, feeling shaken by Captain Gibson’s tone. How cold and exacting it is despite the edge of tenderness and pity I can see overcome his eyes.

“It came up during a counseling session,” I whisper, annoyed with how much my voice and hands are shaking. “I shared something about some things that had happened to me a couple of years ago, and I thought it was you who had done them… but I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything, but the therapist wouldn’t listen.”

Captain Gibson gestures me into silence.

“You don’t need to explain, Frederick. I know you didn’t mean to accuse me and that you confused me for someone else.”

He reaches for me to grab my arm, and I cry out. I scream, wondering if he’s decided that he is going to seduce me now that he’s here, despite his previous assertions. He wouldn’t be the first person today who’s lied through their teeth to get me to trust them.

In response to my scream, Officer George is suddenly outside my still-open door. Both myself and Captain Gibson turn to face him, though I see that Captain Gibson tries to keep his face somewhat obscured from direct observation. I don’t blame him. He’s the last person who should be in my room, alone with me.

“Is everything all right in here?” His face, what I can see of it, looks stern and suspicious.               “Are you okay in there, Frederick?”

I nod, unsure whether I should say anything. I think about it — I almost say that I’m feeling intimidated by the Captain I know he can partially see — but in the end I decide not to. I’ve already caused him enough trouble today by running my mouth. I should avoid doing anything else. Especially if I’m going to make him believe that I’m sorry about it.

“All right then,” says Officer George, turning to begin his rounds again.

“And you,” he adds, directly to Captain Gibson. “That officer is under investigation for charges he just brought against a superior, so he really shouldn’t be having visitors from others on base.” He pauses, squinting.

“I’m not sure exactly who you are, but you need to leave him alone, and soon. Or else I’m going to find out who you are, and press additional charges for tampering with a witness.”

I groan.

“Just leave me alone, would you, George? He’s all right. He was just bringing me my…” Oddly, I smell trail mix on Captain Gibson. “My snacks,” I say.

Officer George harrumphs, and leaves us.

When he’s gone for sure, Captain Gibson tugs on my arm again.

“I know some of your peers don’t like you for being gay and don’t want anything to do with you. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me either, now that I’ve come out. But you’ve got to drop the charges, Frederick. You have to get your head on straight, go back to them and let them know that while you’ve had trauma, you misidentified me. You know I’ve never touched you in any other way than what could be considered professional, and within my job description as your superior. My only job is to teach and train you, not take sexual advantage of you.”

I swallow thickly, feeling horrible. Logically, I know you haven’t done it. I know you haven’t done anything to me, so why did I blurt out your name? Why did it have to be you that I thought I saw? I know it wasn’t you, it can’t be you! If it was, you’d be forcing yourself on me right now. You’d be doing a lot more than just grabbing my arm. You’d be telling for me to get down on my knees, to suck you off, like that Captain before. If you were guilty, you wouldn’t try to reason with me but try taking advantage of me.

I look into his eyes, deciding I’m going to try to hug or make a sort of comforting gesture toward him.

“Captain, I’m really sorry about all of this. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” I try to touch his arm and stroke part of it. “I really am sorry, more than I’ve ever been about anything. It was just supposed to be some counseling, it wasn’t supposed to be an interrogation.” Again, I try to hold just his hand, but he slaps and pushes me away.

“I shouldn’t even be here, Frederick. My lawyer warned me that it might make things more complicated. And it appears it has.”

His eyes and mouth sour some as he turns to leave.

“I’m sorry for the hideous things you’ve been through in your life, but you have to straighten all of this out. I don’t care how you do it, but it needs to be done—for both of us—and before I lose my last year of distinguished service.”

With that, he leaves. This time I close my door. This metal barrier between my personal space and the sprawling complex of the base. I begin feeling frustrated and embarrassed. Why did I even try to hug him? Why did I try to be gentle or comforting toward him? I notice that my heart is racing and my head is swimming with his good looks, his firm-feeling hands and the faint smell of his aftershave. Why am I excited by anything about him or any part of his appearance? In my head, I run over the way he demands for me to just “fix it” and make everything better for him so his retirement happens in all its glory next year. He’s arrogant. He’s an asshole, I decide, flopping back in my chair at my desk. He’s an arrogant fool if he thinks I can just “make things right” because he says to. I shouldn’t be interested in a guy like him. So why am I?

Fuck him, I can do so much better… I can find someone younger…I scoff. If I get off of this restrictive status that is.. I knock my head on the desk a few times. And if my situation doesn’t get any worse in between now and then.