Ten

 

Aleksy frowned, “Can you repeat that?”

The man on the other end of the phone sighed, “Not really.  At least not over the phone.  I’ve already said too much.”

“Too much?  Are you for real?  You’ve barely said two sentences!  I refuse to go into this without knowing exactly what I’m getting into.”

“I would never ask you to.  I’m going to text you an address, can you meet me there in an hour?”

Aleksy snorted a laugh, “Wow.  My uncle said you had balls but he didn’t say they were the size of boulders.  Look, give me something here.  Why me?”

“My teammate, my subordinate, my brother, my friend, is missing.  And it may be my fault,” he said, the last word barely a gasp as the truth of it felt like it was going to choke Morgan.

“How?”

“From a mission we were on ten years ago, a mission that I commanded.  A mission that became a clusterfuck that ended up with one soldier dead, a prisoner dead and three of us so fucked up we all had to get out after it.”

Morgan wasn’t sure how he knew that all of this was related to the mission where supergirl Sonya and their prisoner Peter Popov had been killed.  He just knew.  That mission had been a clusterfuck before they’d even laced up their boots.

Aleksy sighed, “You still haven’t answered my question, Morgan.  If this is related to a mission when you were on in the military, shouldn’t this be handled by them?  I’m sure you still have contacts.”

“I do and they are.”

“But?”

“But something tells me I don’t want them to.”

“Gut instinct?” Aleksy said.

“Yes.”

“Okay. My own gut instinct has kept me alive this far, so yours is good enough for me.  Text me the address.”

“Sending it now.  And if you get there before me, ignore the scowling giant who answers the door.  That’s just my husband Luther, he looks scary but he’s a teddy bear.”

Aleksy barked out a laugh, “I know who your husband is, Morgan.  Hell, all of law enforcement knows who Luther Santiago is, or was anyways.  I’ll make sure to add teddy bear to his file.  I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Okay.  And thank you, Aleksy.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  I still haven’t decided if I’m going to help you.”

“I know.  I’m saying thank you for meeting me.”

Aleksy grunted, “See you in an hour Morgan,” he said then he ended the call.

Morgan tucked the phone back into his pocket and then stood up to leave the room.  He wasn’t really surprised when he tried the handle and found that he was locked in.  All he did was roll his eyes as he pulled his phone back out and dialed.

“Dragon,” Trent’s voice said when he answered.

“Funny.  Let me out.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Trent said with a smile in his voice.

“Asshole.”

“Asshole?  What can I do to help you, asshole?”

“Let me out of this goddamn room,” Morgan growled.

“My, such anger.”

“Never mind, I’ll just call Gamble,” Morgan snapped and just as he hung up, he heard the, “No, wait!” fall from Trent’s mouth.

He smiled as he scrolled through his contacts, hoping to get to Waverly Gamble’s name before the door opened.  It didn’t matter that he and Wave went way back and that he was godfather to Wave’s son Taylor.  Trent didn’t know that, he didn’t need to know.  All he needed to know was that Morgan was calling Trent’s direct supervisor.

“Morgan Doyle, as I live and breathe.  How the hell are you?”

“I’m good, Wave, really good.  How’re Kip and Taylor?”

Silence greeted him from the other end of the phone and Morgan got a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Wave?” he said just as the door opened.  Trent’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Morgan shook his head slightly.  “Tell me, Wave.”

“You remember that shrapnel that they couldn’t remove from Kip’s back because it was too close to his spinal cord?”

“yeah.”

“It began leaking into his bloodstream giving him lead poisoning.  They had no choice but to go in and remove it or he would’ve died.”

Morgan braced his hand against the wall, “What happened, Wave?”

“He’s paralyzed from the waist down, Morg,” he whispered.

“Jesus, no.  How’s he doing?”

“Physically?  Okay.  He’s building his upper body strength and hoping maybe, one day, to walk again.”

“And mentally?”

“He’s a fucking mess, Morg.  We both are.  He’s so angry and depressed.  He keeps telling me to leave him or threatening to leave me so I can be with a whole man.  That’s what he says, Morg.  That he’s not a whole man.  What kind of shit is that?  I love him, him, Morg.  Not his fucking legs.”

“You should’ve called me, Wave.  I should’ve known.”

“So, you could do what?  Fix his legs?  I don’t want his legs fixed.  I just want my husband back.  Can you give me that, Morgan?  Can you give me back the man that I fell in love with?  The one who lit up whenever I walked into a room?  The shadow of a man in my house now never, ever fucking smiles.”

“God, Wave, I…..fuck….”

“Don’t.  Don’t you dare give me your pity.  What did you call for?” he growled.

“I,” he said and then his eyes met Trent’s, “Let me talk to him, Wave.”

Waverly sighed and then was silent.  Morgan was just starting to think that he wasn’t going to answer when Wave whispered, “I don’t know what good it’ll do, Morg.”

“It might do nothing, Wave.  But at least let me try.  What if something that I say gets through to him?  What if it somehow does help?”

Another sigh, “Yeah, okay, I guess.  It’ll have to be a surprise, though.  If I tell him you’re coming, he’ll know something’s up.”

“You’re right.  I’ll give you a call in a few days and we’ll figure out what’s a good time for me to just drop by, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.  And Morg?”

“Yeah?”

“It was good to hear your voice.”

“You too, Wave.  We’ll talk soon,” he said and then he ended the call.

“I had no idea,” he mumbled as he stared down at his phone.

“Not many people do.  Wave is pretty closed lipped about his home life,” Dragon said as he stepped out of the way to let Morgan out.

Morgan frowned, “Trent?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever lock me in a room again, active duty or not, I’m laying your ass out.”

Dragon barked out a laugh, “Noted.”

“Stop acting like a jealous asshole, Trent.  You’re better than that and we weren’t that important to each other,” he said as he turned his back to Trent and walked down the hall.

“Speak for yourself,” Trent whispered too quietly for Morgan to hear.  Morgan didn’t need to know how many days Trent spent regretting not being the man that Morgan needed him to be, how many days he still spent regretting it.

No.  He needed to keep that shit to himself and keep living life like he had been: like a robot.

Hard working, mechanical, devoid of human emotion.

Because men like Trent Dragon weren’t allowed to have pesky little things like feelings.