Not that I wanted him to go anywhere. The worst part about dying would have been never getting to be with him again, and knowing how sad he would have been without me. Selfishly, I was relieved every time I woke from a morphine-induced stupor and found him still at my bedside. But he was only human, and I didn’t want him ruining his own health when he’d been lucky enough not to get shot. Rowan had eventually freed up an extra cot for him as some of the other patients discharged, but he’d gotten very little sleep since LSDF’s invasion, and I didn’t think he’d been eating, either. I mean, I hadn’t been eating, because my intestines were fucked up and I couldn’t until they healed. But I thought he’d gone without food because he was too concerned about me, and I swear I could see him losing muscle mass.
I was able to walk around a bit with support, although it was bizarre to try to get out of bed with my abdominal muscles literally split in two — not to mention hugely painful to move at all for any reason. Rowan said I needed to be up several times a day or it would take longer to heal, so I forced myself to do it, but getting home was much too long a walk for me when I’d only been stapled together three days ago. The ground wasn’t level enough for a wheelchair, so Graham and Julian carried me on the stretcher. Which seemed a little ridiculous, but if it meant I could finally be in my own bed where it would actually be quiet for more than a few minutes, I was more than willing.
I hadn’t realized how much the pervasive, unnatural alkaline odor of the med center was setting my teeth on edge until the sweet, normal, homey smell of our room washed over me. What a relief to be somewhere that didn’t have to be sterilized a hundred times an hour.
The two of them helped me into one of my own clean, familiar t-shirts — very welcome after the oddity of the hospital gown — and got me propped up against the pillows, but even though they were both hovering attentively, it slowly dawned on me that something was off between them. Graham had basically been living with us since January, so the three of us getting into bed together should have been second nature, yet Julian was acting like the other man wasn’t even there. He didn’t look at Graham or speak to him unless he had to coordinate something for me, and now that I thought about it, that had probably been the case for days. It hadn’t been as apparent before, what with the constant chaos of the hospital and me being slightly preoccupied with not dying.
Julian sat noticeably silent against the headboard beside me while Graham got things organized on the bedside table, telling some silly story just to get me to smile. I was planning to ask them what was wrong, but as soon as the captain started to settle at my other side, Julian’s voice cut in.
“Graham,” he interrupted in the middle of a sentence, unexpectedly unfriendly.
His addressee looked up curiously, as did I.
“I need to be alone with him,” Julian said — decreed actually, with a cold finality I’d never heard him use with Graham.
Our partner looked as caught off guard by the demand as I was, and it took him a moment to come up with an answer.
“I just almost lost him too,” he countered, the pain behind his words making my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with my three surgeries.
“You’re not married to him,” was the shockingly heartless response.
“Julian!” I exclaimed in dismay. I couldn’t believe he was using our marriage against Graham like this, especially after what we’d all been through this week. We hadn’t officially discussed our relationship status since those first couple of months, but until just now, I’d thought we were all clear on the fact that Graham was a permanent member.
report Obviously the captain was hurt, and the reply he chose was mocking. “I’m at least as married to him as you were, when you sat next to a sunset and gave him a necklace.”
“A necklace he’s still wearing,” Julian replied evenly, not giving an inch.
I was starting to feel like the rope in a tug of war, the pendant at my throat the prize in a competition I’d never intended to sponsor. My neck got hot, as if the leather cord were actually creating friction against my skin. Some of it was guilt: I was as responsible as anyone for letting things get this far without formalizing Graham’s position with us.
This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my homecoming, but as long as Julian was feeling this territorial, I didn’t think I could defuse the situation with both of them in the room.
“Graham, I’m sorry,” I said on behalf of my husband, who showed not the slightest sign of remorse. “I think he just…needs a little space. Can you let me sort this out with him tonight, and we can talk about it in the morning?”
The captain leveled a hard look at my husband, which made no impact. “Fine,” he said at last, the angry edge not directed toward me.
“Thank you,” I told him in relief, then I prompted him closer for a kiss goodnight. His lips lingered on mine, and I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted him lying at my side, nestled securely against me, just like I wanted Julian to be at my other side.
But the sooner I could calm my first partner down, the sooner we could get back to normal with Graham, so I gave his stubbly cheek a final caress.
“Love you,” I told him.
“Love you too, little one,” he replied, pointedly not including Julian. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I sighed regretfully.
The instant Graham was out the door, Julian got up and locked it, then he started getting us both ready for bed as if nothing had happened. I went along with it, knowing I’d have a better chance of talking to him once we were safely installed under the covers. I had to lie on my back since I couldn’t tolerate any pressure on my eviscerated belly, and once he’d helped me settle in as well as I could, Julian switched off the lamp and carefully lay beside me.
God, it was good to be back in the same bed together. Those first few nights at the med center, I’d been petrified I would never get to have this again — the simple pleasure of skin-to-skin intimacy with a man I loved and trusted so deeply. And when his jaw came to rest at my shoulder, something told me it was those terrifying nights he was thinking of too.
I reached to cradle his head, my fingers brushing gently through his clipped hair. I gave him a few minutes to see if he would speak first, but he didn’t.
“I’m ok, Julian,” I murmured finally. “And you’re ok too. You didn’t have to kick Graham out.”
It was quiet for the space of a breath before he answered in a whisper. “I haven’t been alone with you for a second since the attack. I think I’m entitled to at least one night with my husband after –” He didn’t finish the sentence, and I could guess why.
The whole time he’d been with me in the hospital, watching me nearly lose the battle for my own life, he’d stayed diligently disciplined, all his energy focused on me. He’d never let me see any emotion other than care and support for the struggle I was going through. But I could all too easily imagine what it would have been like for me if he were the one suffering and bleeding and dying. I would have been — would be — an absolute fucking wreck. Somewhere inside, I was sure he was too.