Page 70 of Whisper
He’d taken a lukewarm shower and tossed and turned on his thin mattress all night, his thoughts consumed by David.
But, just after breakfast, as he was trying to coax resurrection out of a cup of shitty instant coffee, Palmer had led his men back into the CIA station. “Reporting as ordered, sir,” he said to George, who’d been sitting two seats down from Kris.
“Pull up a chair, gentleman. Dig in.”
Palmer’s team had torn into the breakfast the Afghan cooks had made. They’d eaten like they’d never seen food, shoveling breakfast into their mouths at world-hot-dog-eating-championship pacing.
David had come around the table and sat in the empty seat beside Kris.
He’d showered, and his cuts had been bandaged, and there were stitches above one eyebrow. Bruises along his cheeks and jaw. His knuckles were raw, his skin cracked from the cold. But his eyes still burned every time he looked at Kris. Need pulsated from him, like gravity, like the oceans’ tides, pulling Kris in.
George had called a meeting after breakfast, carting in a crate of beers and passing them out individually. “From Uzbekistan.” He’d grinned. “I heard this is the strongest Russian beer an American can drink. The rest of the brews are fermented engine oil.” Chuckles rose, halfhearted.
After he’d thanked them all and had extolled their heroics with hearty cheers, he led the team in the first round of drinks. George sputtered after his first sip, nearly choking on the thick, dark brew, far more robust than a Guinness or a black stout in the States. Palmer laughed and clapped him on the back.
“I told you we were going to find Bin Laden, and I meant that. We, the people in this room,” George said, nodding to each and every man, in his team and in Palmer’s. “And we have a new mission. We are the team charged with hunting down and capturing Bin Laden, wherever he is, no matter how long it takes. And we’ll capture every other high-value al-Qaeda leader, too.
“Which means we’re moving shop. Al-Qaeda isn’t in Afghanistan anymore, at least not in any real presence. They fled, or they’re trapped in Kandahar, which means the Marines are going to smoke them out. Most of the high-value leadership made it out of Afghanistan overland to Pakistan. They’re either hiding in the tribal areas, or they’ve made their way to Peshawar or Kashmir. So, we’re on the move. In two days, the entire team is moving to Islamabad station.” He took another sip of his beer, cringing as he swallowed. “The next two days are yours. I’m sorry we can’t give you a better Christmas vacation. But the Army has set up some facilities at Bagram for their soldiers. There’s the theater, showing Bollywood’s finest from a decade ago. And there’s plenty of beds, hot chow, and secured internet here. Sleep, eat, and call home.”
“Sounds great, sir.” Palmer held out his hand. George shook it. Jackson and Warrick were already cheering, talking about plans to eat until they puked and then sleep until they couldn’t physically sleep another minute. Jim and Phillip had their heads together, muttering about Bagram and the facilities there. Ryan stayed in the corner, his arms folded, staring at the ground.
David’s gaze met Kris’s.
Two days, all to themselves.
Visions tumbled through Kris’s mind, dreams he’d nurtured through the scant few minutes he’d slept at base camp, always clutching the radio close in case David or the team radioed in. Finally, after all this time, after everything. He could see his own eagerness reflected in David’s eyes.
“Kris, Sergeant Haddad.” George stopped in front of them as the rest of the team peeled away, off on their own adventures. “I… wanted to say something to you, Kris.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. “I am very proud of you. You proved everyone wrong. Really rose above all of the challenges you faced.” He smiled and held out his hand.
Never let anyone else define your life, Kris. Never let anyone else define who you are. They will always get it wrong.David’s words came back, slamming into his skull like gongs being struck, like fireworks shooting off into the night sky.
“George, the only real challenge I faced here wasyou. And Ryan.” Kris felt that fire that had always burned in him reignite, felt the flames grow larger. Something had slipped, between the boy he’d been, who’d refused to hide, and the man he’d become, who had let other people set barriers for him. When had he given up? “The only thing I had to prove wrong wasyourprejudice. I knew what I was doing. I was confident in myself. I didn’t struggle with what I could do. No, George, I am proud ofyoufor finally seeing that I was working my ass off, that I was doing everything I could. That I knew what I was talking about and really was put on the team to be the subject matter expert.”
George stared. His jaw hung open.
Kris put the cherry on top. “I’m proud of you for finally seeing the real me, George.”
“That’s… one way to put it,” George said slowly.
“It’s the right way to put it.”
George’s gaze darted to David. David stood beside Kris, silent and sentinel. He stared at George, daring him to disagree.
“I think I was right about one thing, at least,” George finally said, his voice low. He stared pointedly at them both, holding each of their gazes for a long moment.
David straightened. Kris heard his vertebrae crack, felt his muscles tighten until they started to tremble.
“Which brings me to my next question.” He cleared his throat. “State wants to reopen the US Embassy in Kabul after the new year. They want someone to go through it first, get an assessment of the damage. I… was wondering if you two would be interested. It’s a big, empty building. Might take two days to go through.”
Kris’s head swam, like he’d been plunged into the ocean, tossed on waves after falling from a high cliff. George was… giving them space? Privacy? Calling them on their fledgling relationship, and, inexplicably, enabling it? In all of Kabul, in all of Afghanistan, was there any place he and David could possibly be together without any fear of discovery or of reprisal?
“We’d be happy to,” David rumbled. “We’ll start immediately.”
“Good.” George looked like he’d just shit his pants. “I expect you back here in two days.”
The doors to the embassy had barely shut behind them when David first pressed Kris against the wall.
David’s body surrounded him, covered him completely, devoured him. David pressed his forehead to Kris’s, lips hovering microns apart. Their breaths shook, tiny gasps keeping the last of their bodies separate.
