Page 29 of Escape into the Night

The phone went briefly airborne, landing on the mattress behind Taz with a quiet thump as he scrambled into a seated position. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hold on… no. Why're you apologizing?” Luke turned to better face his partner. The insecurity playing over his features was evident even in the low light. He also noted the subconscious way Taz reached to scratch at the fresh marks his stress had left on the skin hidden beneath the long sleeves of the sweatshirt that had once belonged to Luke.

“I didn’t… I thought about it, but I didn't…” His voice hitched slightly as he squirmed before shifting onto his knees. “I didn't hurt myself.”

“That's good. But you don't need to apologize, baby. Even if you had, I understand. I'm not mad. I'm not upset.” Luke reached out to cup Taz’ cheek, the faint stubble of his facial hair skating over his palm as Taz leaned into the touch like a cat.

“You'd be disappointed, which is worse. Don't fucking lie to me.”

“Not disappointed. Worried, helpless but eager to help, yes. But never disappointed.” Luke leaned forward to press a kiss to Taz’ forehead. “I love you.”

A quiet breath escaped his lips before he chased more contact, peppering tiny kisses over Luke’s jaw before bringing his lips closer to his ear to whisper. “I love you. You said you aren't okay? Can I help?”

“No. It's nothing you did and not something that can be helped.” Luke let his palms shift over Taz body to pull him close, an embrace despite their odd positioning on the edge of the bed. “I’m considering talking to someone.”

“Like… a shrink?”

Luke’s laugh was a breathy huff of air. “Yeah, baby. If that's what you want to call it.”

“You think it’ll help?” Taz nuzzled even closer, suddenly desperate for the physical affection he’d been refusing for days.

“I do. Is that something you'd like to explore too?”

He froze in place, his breath growing noticeably shallower and quicker. “I don't know.”

“You don't have to decide now. I'd just like you to think about it.” Luke reveled in their closeness, running his palms gently up and down the sweep of Taz’ back. He’d missed this. He needed it.

“Decisions are hard.”

“Mhmm. That's why I'm here to help, baby boy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” His attitude was quick to flare and equally quick to evaporate with another quiet breath. “Thanks.”

Eager to bask in the quiet comfort of his lover’s presence, Luke wound his arms tighter around the wiry body until a sharp nudge at his lower back broke the serenity. Another nudge followed by a plaintive whine had them both chuckling as they turned their heads toward the source of the interruption. Beady eyes reflected the meager light, and a wave of dog breath hit them like a hot cloud as Brody’s tongue fell from the side of his mouth. His goofy dog grin and quiet panting meant one thing.

“Our fur baby needs his walkie?” Taz’ ooey gooey singsong was music to Luke’s soul as Taz disentangled himself from their embrace to scruff the hair around Brody’s head. “Brody baby needs walkies?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm on it.” Luke pushed to his feet with a chuckle. “Save me a plate. Dinner’s in fifteen or so, by now.”

“Or,” Taz countered, his gaze lifting to seek out Luke’s in the dim darkness of their sanctuary. “You could hurry and eat with us.”

“Wilco, Sarge.” With a mock salute, Luke grabbed the leash off the dresser and whistled to the dog. “Back in ten, you can time me.”

“L-Luke?” The hesitation in his wavering words had Luke drawing up short at the door. Taz hurried to his feet and stood before him with a tentative press of his palms to Luke’s chest. He knew without knowing that Taz was checking for the shoulder holster beneath Luke’s suit coat. “Be careful?”

“Always, baby.” Luke stole a quick kiss and took off at a jog. He didn't actually expect Taz to time his departure, but he also wouldn't be surprised if he did. Regardless, he intended to make the venture a quick one. If only because he was really not looking forward to pushing his luck on the streets of Anacostia in the midst of a power outage with no end in sight.

Even after being out of the service for as long as he had been, Luke still struggled to leave the battlefield behind. The old training he would never forget always came back the second he stepped through the door every day, and the intensity of it was exacerbated by the lack of power casting impenetrable shadows over the familiar landscape of the neighborhood. Despite the darkness, the streets were not empty, ramping up Luke’s hypervigilance to the point of overwhelm. He ran through the risk assessment like it were second nature as he kept the leash close and his stance confident.

A heavy metallic aroma lanced through the night air, the scents of the city looming like a heavy cloud with the coming of nightfall. Warm asphalt. The smell of smoke on the breeze. Rotting refuse somewhere nearby. The street was quiet, but not silent. Shuttered businesses drew curious lurkers, opportunists ready to pounce on perceived weakness. Others sat hunched on stoops and steps, not eager to return to the stifling closeness of apartment buildings with inadequate ventilation. Still others moved like wraiths in and out of the shadows, stalking orsearching for anything. Brody let out a small, rumbling huff as his hackles rose and his shoulder pressed against Luke’s thigh.

Despite his outwardly relaxed stance, Luke was dancing a tightrope of awareness. The instincts curated by the Marine Corps were back in action as his keen eyes clocked every movement, every potential pinch point, each exit, route, and step in an effort to remain ready for anything and everything that might cross his routine route. It was that vigilance that had him noticing something that didn't sit quite right in the base of his gut.

He’d lived in this region and walked these streets often enough to have a running tally of who did and didn't belong. The older couple on the nearest stoop belonged. The pack of teens casing the corner store belonged. The trio of young men causing a ruckus on the farthest corner with a tire iron and an old trash can out of sheer boredom belonged. The man in voluminous rags leaning heavily against the apartment building Taz had used as a hideaway? He didn't belong. Nevertheless, Luke kept to his predictable path and tried to keep his feet squarely planted in the civilian world despite every internal alarm screaming that this anomaly was a threat and he needed to remain combat ready.

His adrenaline and emotions influenced Brody, trained to be aware of every biochemical shift and heightened biometric in Luke’s body. The dog leaned heavier into Luke’s thigh with each step and the intermittent whines of concern shifted into a more insistent series of huffing, puffing, anxious yawning, and even the occasional quiet bark. Luke continued on, refusing to let the ghosts of his past influence the reality of the present. They weren't actually sweeping an urban landscape in a Middle Eastern country. They were simply going for a walk in their own neighborhood. If he told himself that enough, it'd be true.

By the time they were headed back toward home, cruising the opposite side of the street, Luke’s grip on the leash was punishing. His knuckles ached for how hard he gripped the strip of leather. He had to consciously force himself to take a deeper breath as he surveyed the path ahead and caught the sharp-eyed stare of the Rag Man, still casually leaning against the corner of the building like moss clinging to the old, moldering brickwork. Too clear-eyed to be an addict like his subtle, rhythmic head bob would fool most people into thinking. Each step closer toward the individual had Luke cataloguing more details and incongruities.

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