Hector
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Being confined to quarters was not something that he thought he could deal with. They were too small and cramped. There was quite literally nothing to do. Not even the televisions worked. Well, they worked, but there were no channels because why would the embassy pay for them when shifters weren’t television watchers?
Hector was stuck, with nothing to do. True, he was back in his quarters, which was a nice change from the storage shed. But all he’d done was lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling, getting up when someone brought one of his meals by. At least they were feeding him plenty, not trying to starve him or anything like that.
“But I’m going stir crazy,” he said aloud. “I’m also talking to myself. There is nothing about this that is going to help my situation.”
He rolled off the bed and stood up, muscles and tendons creaking after having lain still for too long. Hector reached up, stretching to the ceiling, before bending over and reaching for the ground.
Hector was through sitting on the sidelines. He’d done that for a full day already. No longer. The sound of shovels and hammers and other tools reached him, through vibrations in the building and under the crack in his door. There was lots going on out there, and he was currently sitting in his room doing nothing. That was unacceptable to him. Hector needed to be out there, working with the others, getting dirty, doing whatever he could to make the situation better.
Sitting on his ass was not helping.
He slipped on some clothes and then his boots, lacing them up extra tight. Then he headed for the door, undoing the bolt and flinging it open. Two guards turned to regard him steadily.
Right. The guards. He’d forgotten about them.
“Hey fellas.”
Andrew had recalled all the shifters in Cloud Lake after the fire, wanting everyone onsite and helping with the damage. The list of those who were permitted to travel to Cloud Lake was very tightly regulated, which meant that many of those who were eligible to come were the trained military members of Cadia. Whether Green Bearets or their equivalent from the other races, they all were held to high expectations, and also given increased levels of trust over the general public. It hadn’t been hard for Andrew to press them back into service for a few days while he decided what to do with Hector.
“You aren’t allowed out, sir, except under Andrew or Gray’s permission.” The tone of voice of Guard One was polite and respectful, yet also completely unyielding.
“I’m aware of the stipulations surrounding my confinement,” he said, perhaps a little harsher than necessary. “But here’s the situation, guys. I’m here, in my room, lying flat on my back and doing absolutely nothing. Yet out there are more of you working around the clock to fix this place. I’m done sitting around and doing sweet fuck all. I’m going down there to help with the repair work. You can either stop me, or the three of us can go pitch in and lend our hands to the effort, where we can do a lot more good.”
The two guards grimaced and looked back and forth between themselves. It was clear to him that they wanted to do nothing less than what he was suggesting. Yet if they did, then the pair of them would both be guilty of exactly what he’d done to get himself locked up in the first place: abandoning their post.
“I understand,” he said gently. “So that’s why the two of you can just work with me. You can even switch off, one of you supervising me while the other helps. If I’m still right there with you, then you technically haven’t let me out of your sight. And if anyone complains, I’ll say I beat you into submission.”
One of the shifters snorted in amusement at the suggestion Hector could even do such a thing. He had them, and they knew it. Neither one of them wanted to be stuck on babysitting duty while their friends and colleagues worked hard to restore the embassy.
“Let’s go,” he said, pushing between them.
Hector was ready for one, or both of them to protest, to stop him and shove him back into his room. But neither of them did, and the door closed behind him with a thud. He looked from side to side, nodding at them each, and then set off down the hallway toward the stairs and the lower level where all the renovation work was ongoing. Behind him, half a step slower, came the double footfalls of his guards.
He grinned, careful not to let them see it. Finally he was off to do some good, after all the bad that he’d caused. They reached the stairway where several shifters were busy washing the walls down. The carpets had all been ripped out and sheets had been put down over the concrete to help contain water so it didn’t seep into the walls. It was thick with blackened sludgewater, but the walls themselves looked great. Cleaned up and with a fresh coat of paint, the place might actually look better than it had before. The dull creamy-beige color was far too dull for his tastes.
Taking the stairs down two at a time he looked around, taking stock of what was happening and trying to decide where he could be used best. While he waited his guards caught up, still hanging out on either side of him. Hector didn’t care, and he vowed to do his best not to make them have to work extra hard to keep up with him.
“Where to?” he asked.
The three of them glanced around. Several pairs of shifters were hauling large metal bins of debris out the front door, where even bigger dumpsters waited to receive the debris before they were to be hauled off.
The walls were coming down, and beneath their feet the tiles that had covered the entire lobby and hallways extending to either side had already been removed.
“Let’s help with demo,” he said, pushing into the back of the embassy and into the lounge. The damage was worse back here, and he could see a zone marked off where the fire had started, along the far wall. Several humans were there still, taking pictures and making notes.
To his right, one of the shifters who was shoveling debris into a bin stood upright and wiped sweat from his brow. Without hesitating Hector walked over to him, gently took the shovel and pointed him toward a water cooler. “I’ll take it from here,” he said.
His guards relieved two men hauling a debris container, and they held it while Hector swiftly filled it with debris from the walls, the floors, and even the ceiling, which was also being torn down.
“Don’t make us regret this,” one of his guards said as they picked up the big container and hauled it outside, leaving him alone.
“I won’t,” he called, and went right back to shoveling up debris as the next container arrived.
Hector had spent a lot of time doing absolutely nothing over the past thirty-six hours while everyone else had worked. It was time to fix that. He shoveled at a furious rate, ignoring everything as he filled container after container while others continued to bring debris down around him.
Finally, when he began to cough on some dust and couldn’t get it to stop he stood up, arm over his mouth and continued to hack for some time. Eventually someone tapped him on the shoulder and shoved a glass of water at him. He nodded gratefully and sipped at it, letting the clear, refreshing liquid clean his throat out.
“Thanks,” he said, finishing the rest of the water and tossing the flimsy paper into the nearest container.
It was only then that he realized the entire room had stopped and everyone was looking at him. The looks he was getting were mixed. Some contained appreciation for him showing up to help. Others were pure malice, while some were almost completely uninterested.
“I’m sorry that I’ve ruined your vacation,” he said, not sure what else to say.
Several of them smiled. Others glared daggers.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen. I was gone perhaps two minutes at tops. Even if I’d been here, I’m not sure it would have changed much.”
There was a pause.
“Corvin would still be alive though,” he said. “And for that, I’ll have to live with the knowledge that I am responsible for his death.”
There was no response.
“Anyway, I’m sorry.” He bowed his head momentarily, then picked up his shovel and went back to work.
At first nothing happened, and he was forced to carry debris as nobody picked up the nearest bin to empty it. The second bin became filled. As he started to scoop up a pile of debris and walk toward the third bin near the entrance to the lounge, several other shifters started to move as well. They came forward and removed the first bin, and then the second. Another pair brought the third bin toward the pile of debris he was working on.
In the far corner someone took up their crowbar and went back to pulling the roof down. Beside them someone starting working at the wall once more as well. Two others picked up shovels and began to aid in the cleanup. Moments later the stream of bins resumed its flow and the shifters everywhere were pitching in, even the ones who had been trying to kill him with their glares earlier. Hector just nodded to himself and bent to the task of cleaning up the debris as it was created.
An unknown amount of time later, his two guards stood up straight. They had switched to shoveling with him, the trio moving with a purpose across the floor. Now though they came to rigid attention. Hector looked up to see Gray walking across the lounge toward them. They were almost done stripping the room, having worked across to the far side of it, removing floor tile and the drywall from the walls and ceiling.
“What are you doing?” Gray asked.
“Helping make it right,” he said defiantly, sticking out his jaw and practically challenging the other shifter to stop him.
The whole room was watching. They were all still working, but their attention was completely focused on the conversation between the two of them.
One thing we and humans have in common: we love drama.
“I see. I thought you were confined to quarters,” Gray said.
“I was. But that was stupid. This is my fault, so why the hell do I get to sit around and be lazy while all these others are forced to give up their vacation time on my behalf? I sat around for over a day while they worked their asses off. No more,” he stated. “No more.”
Then he bent down and started shoveling debris some more, making good on his words.
Gray stood there for some time, watching.
“Did they find out what caused it yet?”
“No,” Gray replied. “Not yet. They know where it started, but the ‘what’ is taking them longer apparently.”
“I see. Okay.” He went back to work, shoveling a few more loads before uttering “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not going apeshit on me for being out here helping.”
Gray sighed. “I didn’t want to confine you in the first place. Neither did Andrew, dammit. But we had to do something, Hec, you know that.”
“I know.”
“We also know you didn’t mean for this to happen.” It sounded like Gray was going to continue along that line, but he stopped and changed topics. “Rachel came by looking for you. She was worried.”
“I know,” he said slowly. “I wanted to communicate with her, to tell her I’m sorry and that I’m okay, but I couldn’t, because someone had taken my phone.”
Gray nodded. “You know her number?”
Surprised at the question he nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Good. Just make sure you return it then.”
Hector opened his mouth to ask what Gray was talking about, but the other shifter turned to go, and as he did, slipped something into Hector’s pocket. He waited till the other shifter was gone before he patted the side of his pants. A grin spread across his face.
Gray had given him a cell phone.