James had taken cover on the ground the moment the alarm sounded, a second before the bomb went off. For a brief pause he wondered what happened. Terrorist attacks didn’t usually make it all the way into the base. They were typically isolated to the gate or supply shed and civilian areas. So, what was this? Had one of them slipped through during the scatter during battle?

“Martin?” James coughed as smoke filled his lungs. He forced himself to his feet and tried to look through the debris that was floating around, fogging up his vision.

“James,” Crissy sounded in pain and to his right, but he couldn’t focus on her right now. He needed to find Martin.

“Martin!” He called again.

A soft groaning, almost too quiet to hear, drifted to his ears. Waving his hand in front of him, James stumbled over rubble. The entire left side of the hanger had been blown open. A huge hole now stood where the wall had been. Tools, machine parts, and people were strewn about. As James advanced he looked at each person. With each one he felt himself hope that maybe Martin hadn’t been caught in the explosion. That was impossible though. So, where was he?

“Martin!” James shouted, the smoke clearing and allowing his lungs a break to get a good breath.

Again, that soft groaning sound reached him. This time it sounded more like a wheezing, like the owner of that breath was gasping, unable to take a true breath. With a bit more balance to his steps, James walked steadily toward the source of that groan.

A body was pinned beneath one of the large toolboxes. His legs completely covered. James felt his heart stutter as he recognized the patch of brown hair and profile of Martin lying on the ground beneath more debris, dust, and settled ash.

“Martin,” James gasped and instantly moved to get the toolbox off him. As he attempted to lift it, Martin groaned, but the box barely budged. Taking a deep breath, James centered his weight on his legs and lifted again. This time the box shifted, but not enough to free Martin.

“James! Crissy!” Newt’s voice pierced through the noise of sirens blaring and people shouting in the background as his silhouette appeared from the entrance to the hanger.

“Newt, help me,” James called out to him. “Martin’s pinned.”

His friend was at his side instantly. Together they managed to get the box off Martin and set it up right. James kneeled, pulling Martin into his arms, and checking him over for damage. His legs were broken. Well, at least one of them was. Not to mention whatever damage he couldn’t take note of by just a cursory feel.

“Where’s Crissy?” Newt asked from above him.

“Right here,” Crissy answered, stumbling out from behind the now extremely damaged ship. James caught the hostile look she threw at Martin, but chose to ignore it for now. He didn’t have time to deal with her unwarranted jealousy. He’d never showed any inclination toward her.

“You okay?” Newt asked, going to her side, and helping her stand upright.

“Just a bit shaken,” Crissy shrugged his assistance aside. “What the fuck happened?”

“We need a medic at hanger 34, several injured,” Newt called into his com before saying, “Delayed charge attached to one of the ships that were late to respond to the retreat call. Fucking Squids are getting more devious with their weapons.”

“It wasn’t terrorists?” James found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Newt shook his head. “One of the mechanics found the charge with just enough time to get clear. The other one working on the fighter didn’t make it.”

“Fuck,” Crissy bowed her head, a mumbled prayer leaving her lips.

James didn’t see the point in praying. No amount of prayers brought back the dead. It sure as shit didn’t end wars. It was nothing more than wasted breath and effort that could be better used for other pursuits.

“Who’s injured?” a medic shouted as he entered the hanger.

“Over here,” James called out.

“And over there,” Crissy pointed to the men that still hadn’t moved that had been closest to the blast site.

One man moved to the group of bodies while the other crouched down beside James and Martin. Using a hand held Medical Scanner, he ran it over Martin’s body. James didn’t like the multiple red bleeps that appeared. The yellow and orange ones weren’t any better.

“We need to get this one to the hospital stat,” the medic said, before reaching for his com and putting in a transport order. “How are things over there Jim?”

“They’re gone, Mack,” Jim answered.

Crissy released a soft sob, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. James tried not to think about it too hard as he helped Mack get Martin on a stretcher and out to meet the transport. His neck was secured, though James had told them several times it was his lower half that had been pinned. Mack said it was procedure though.

He walked beside Mack and Jim as they got him outside and loaded him up. James sat across from Martin as the two medics somehow got an IV into Martin’s arm even as the vehicle spun around and raced across the base toward the hospital.

The doors opened to greet them even before they had stopped, and three nurses and a doctor came rushing up to the transport. Soon they were carting Martin through double doors and away from his reach. A nurse physically stopped him from proceeding further.

“I’m his bodyguard,” James tried to explain.

“There’s nothing for you to guard him from here,” she retorted.

“What are you going to do to him?”

“Based off his extensive injuries, they’ll be prepping him for the tank.”

“The tank?” James didn’t like the sound of that at all. He knew Martin’s injuries were bad, but bad enough to be submerged in a tank of fluid to help speed up recovery? James was never entirely certain what the fluid was made up of.

“Please, while you’re waiting, contact his next of kin,” the nurse instructed.

“Isn’t that your job?” James frowned.

“Normally, but seeing as you’re his bodyguard, and he got hurt on your watch,” the nurse eyed him like he was completely to blame for the entire situation.

On the subject of next of kin, James had no idea who that was. Hell, he didn’t know anything about Martin outside his work ethic and lecherous tendencies to flirt with him. The only person he could think of to call was the last person he wanted to, especially because he still wasn’t even sure what the true story was behind why Martin was sent all the way out here.

* * *

James sat on a chair, watching Martin float helpless in a large tank. An oxygen mask was covering his face, a tube leading to the outside of the tank where it was attached to an external oxygen tank. He’d been in there for two days now. James wasn’t entirely certain what all the bleeps and ups and downs on the monitors meant, but he could tell there were less of them than yesterday. That had to be a good thing. Right?

Reaching out, James rested his hand on the glass as if he could touch Martin through the tank. It was ridiculous, but he desperately wanted to feel the other man’s heat. The only positive he could see in all this was he had Martin all to himself here. Wanting to monopolize the man, it was about time he admitted that Martin had gotten to him.

The doors swished open behind him, but James paid it no mind. It was probably just the nurse coming to check on them. They made their rounds about every twenty minutes or so.

“Martin?” the unfamiliar voice had James turning around and looking at a man he’d only seen once—when he’d contacted Martin’s job about his injuries. The new arrival was Martin’s boss, Frederick Manning.

He was tall, with almost no bulk to him. For a man that ran a construction firm, it didn’t look like he did any heavy lifting outside maybe his regular visits to his gym. His brown hair was cut into a trendy style, and his small glasses were perched on his nose as if they were about to fall off.

“Hello,” James stood and moved to stand in front of the tank. “I’m Lieutenant James Wright I was the one who called you about Mar-Mr. Black.”

“Right, thank you. You can leave now,” Frederick demanded as he brushed by James and claimed the chair he’d just vacated.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave. My job is to protect Martin.”

“Then why is he in this tank?” Frederick demanded. “Because it sure wasn’t because you were doing your job! Now leave me alone with my lover.”

Those words were like a blow to the gut. He hadn’t had the chance to confirm the rumors flying around, but he didn’t think Martin was the kind of guy to chase after another man while involved with someone else. He may be a flirt, but he wasn’t a cheater.

“I repeat,” James stood a bit straighter and pinned the slimmer man with his best glare. It was one he often used on lower ranking rookies that tried to push their limits. “My job is to keep Martin within my sight at all times. What happened to him was a tragic incident that also cost several good men and women their lives. Even if I had been right next to him, there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to prevent the explosion.”

Frederick gaped at him, his brown eyes blazing behind his small glasses. James was willing to bet the man wasn’t used to others talking back to him. Normally James would never question a superior, but this man was a civilian, and he had his orders.

There was also the personal side to all of this. James didn’t want to leave Martin alone with this man. Something was off, he knew it. If Frederick really was Martin’s lover, why send him into an active warzone? It made absolutely no sense. Wasn’t one’s instinct to protect the people closest to them? No, Frederick was hiding something, or he wasn’t telling the truth. Either way, James wasn’t leaving.

He did, however, let the man keep the chair he’d confiscated. Pulling a spare over, James sat down in a position so he could watch both Frederick and Martin. It took the new arrival all of two minutes to pull out a tablet and start typing away on it. James gritted his teeth, but didn’t say anything to him. A part of him wanted to though. He claimed Martin to be his lover, and yet he found the sense of mind to work while he was in this condition?

The act only proved to him further that Frederick Manning was lying.

He didn’t doubt the concern he saw in the man’s eyes when he first arrived. Or the anger he felt at his words earlier. Going off that, James was willing to guess and say Martin and Frederick had, at one time, been involved. They weren’t anymore though. At least, he hoped not.

The nurse arrived five minutes later, and seemed startled to see Frederick in the room. She grilled him about his relationship to Martin, and frowned when he said boss and lover. She asked a few more questions while she checked on Martin’s vitals and the condition of the fluid in the tank.

“He’ll be ready to come out tomorrow,” she said. “The doctor will check him over tonight and start the plans for extraction. Lieutenant, have you noticed any movement yet?”

“Just the same twitching of his hands and feet,” James answered.

She made a note of the observation before excusing herself. “Oh right,” she returned and looked at Frederick, “this hospital doesn’t allow overnight visitors, and visiting hours end in twenty minutes. Please, pack up and be gone before I come back.”

“What about him?” Frederick glared at James.

“Military orders,” she waved the issue aside. “Lieutenant Wright is assigned to this room as long as Mr. Black is here.”

The man did not look happy to hear that, and James didn’t care. The nurse looked at them both, her eyes stern as he she waited for an answer.

“Understood,” Frederick responded. “I’ll leave when they call an end to visitations.”

“Thank you,” the nurse smiled and left.

“I’ll be having a talk with your superiors,” Frederick snarled at James before he put his nose back in his tablet and continued working.

Again, James managed not to say anything, though he did smile. The man was more than welcome to talk to his superiors. He doubted he’d get the results he was hoping for though.