November

November 30: Wednesday

"Hey, Sloane. Hey. Hey, baby, wake up."
Sloane jerked awake, blinking desperately to try to make out the face in the darkness of his bedroom. Clint smiled at him. Sloane rolled onto his side and tried to sit up.
"I - am I at home? I fell asleep."
Clint reached out a hand to stroke his hair.
"Yeah, I know you did, babe. At Tega's place. I brought you here." Sloane exhaled and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling.
"Is Tega gone?"
Clint shook his head, and Sloane noticed he was dressed in his uniform, twisting his hat in his hands. It must be morning, then - he must have an early shift. He hoped he hadn't missed Ortega - he'd wanted very badly to see him before he left.
"No. He leaves in an hour. That's why I thought I'd wake you up."
Clint seemed anxious, Sloane thought, but didn't dwell on the thought. They'd both been pretty anxious lately. They'd had a lot to think about. Sloane's eyes had adjusted to the low light now; he recognized the hour as predawn. Clint was staring at him intently, squeezing his hat a little in his hands.
"How do you feel?"
Sloane twitched his lip.
"I feel fine."
"Not sick?"
Sloane shook his head.
"I"m OK."
Clint seemed relieved.
"They said you pretty much passed out at Tega's. The rest of your boys stayed up packing all night."
Sloane tried to think back. He remembered closing up a box, then people talking, then the overwhelming urge to take a nap, and then...waking up here.
"I was just sleepy."
Clint glanced suspiciously at him before turning his attention back to his hat. He shook it out and spun it on one finger.
"Well, do you want to get up? I can walk you over to see Ortega before I go."
Sloane stared at the ceiling and tried to get his bearings on the day.
"You have an early patrol?"
Clint moved one hand over the blanket to rest on Sloane's thigh.
"Yes. I'll be home early, though. Is that OK?"
Sloane swallowed and rolled over to get out of bed, slipping free of Clint's touch.
"That's fine."
There seemed to be some important silence; some tension between them which Sloane didn't understand. He got up and went into the bathroom. He was still wearing his clothes from last night. Clint hadn't undressed him. He brushed his teeth and ran a brush across his hair, the bright light in the bathroom blinding him. When he came back out, Clint was still sitting in the shadows with his hat in his hands; Sloane shut off the light and blinked his eyes, but they had adjusted to the brightness. Clint was a silhouette once again. Sloane stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at him.
"I want you to quit your job."
Sloane's stomach dropped and his heartbeat surged, but then he calmed himself. He'd known this was coming. He'd expected it. It was unavoidable. He nodded his head.
"OK."
Clint was silent, as if he had something more to say.
"Because I'm also going to quit mine."
This part was unexpected. This part was new.
"I reported your pregnancy to base yesterday. They offered a new position."
Sloane still stood in the doorway.
"But I don't think I'm going to take it. I'm going to ask them, instead, for something else."
Clint looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes. In the darkness, he couldn't find them.
"I think a change would do our family good, Sloane." he said, and although Clint would never know it, Sloane's heart leapt miles into the air upon hearing that phrase uttered so casually, so certainly...our family. Us. He belonged somewhere again.
Clint had gone back to spinning his hat; he was working his jaw and Sloane wanted to warn him that he would pop it out of line, but he just kept quiet and stood where he was instead.
"I think we should go somewhere new."
Sloane wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer this; he didn't.
"I've been talking to James about Jalisco, about the South where he and Ortega are gonna live."
Sloane furrowed his brow.
"He thinks it'll be a better sense of community, down there, in those small towns - a better quality of life. He says things will be slower, safer - good for Ortega and good for him. He's going to take a position less an hour from the house; there are opportunities for local patrol, administration, regulation. These towns, after all, need to be rebuilt."
Sloane had been still this entire time; now he moved to put a hand on his belly, a calming gesture he'd picked up from Ortega and begun to do for himself. Clint lifted his head again; his silhouette was looking at Sloane.
"James asked me if we wanted to come with them."
Sloane felt breathless, frightened.
"And what did you say?"
Clint hesitated.
"I told him 'yes'."
Sloane felt all the air rush out of his body. How could Clint do this? To make such a major decision, to take him away from his town and his job and his home and his Center, the only family he had...Sloane started to cry. Clint's shoulders drooped visibly; he got up and rushed over to him.
"Sloane, sweetheart, baby. Please don't cry. I'm sorry, babe, I'm trying. Please, Sloane, help me - I'm trying. I only thought it would be a nice thing for us, for the baby. I only thought it would be a nice thing for you."
Sloane choked on a few sobs, but pretty quickly pulled himself together.
"I - I just - Clint, why? Why didn't you ask me? Why didn't you care?"
Clint was close to him now, so close that even in the darkness, Sloane could make out his eyes. They were hopeful eyes, young eyes, scared eyes, sad eyes.
"Sloane, I did care. I do care! I care so much, I just - I thought that if we go to Jalisco, then things can be better. You can spend more time on your own. You can be friends with Ortega and have a little job, maybe, sometimes, in the town. You can go outside whenever you feel like it. You can have a little freedom there, Sloane. I thought freedom was the best gift I could possibly give you."
Sloane half-smiled a sad little smile, then stepped back from Clint, putting his hands on his fiancé's shoulders.
"Clint," Sloane managed, his voice calmer than he thought it would be, "You can't make a gift of something which wasn't yours in the first place."
Clint frowned.
"Babe - "
Sloane looked at him sadly.
"You took my freedom from me, Clint. You and the government and the Wars and this place. But it was always my freedom. It was always a part of me; it came with me. It's not a commodity to be traded back and forth, and it's not a gift which can be given away."
he stared into his eyes for another long minute, searching with his entire heart, trying to make his fiancé see.
"Do you understand that, Clint?"
Clint looked terribly confused, and more than a little hurt.
"I just thought - "
Sloane smiled, ruefully, and kissed him.
"I know you did, babe. I know."
Still smiling, Sloane shook his head, took a deep breath and walked past Clint into the dark. Almost at the door, he stopped, began picking up things to put into a bag.
"I'll go." he said, no cadence leaking through in his voice. "I'll admit to you that I won't mind going. Maybe we will be happier in Jalisco, too."

~:~

The room was no longer bustling when Sloane walked in at 4. It had that ill, quiet quality of hospital waiting rooms, or courthouse hallways. The boys, as Clint had so dissmissively called them, were sitting around the room, looking as if they were busy reenacting the five stages of grief. Suleiman was looking wistfully at a sleeping Ortega; he shook his head in disbelief. Jesse was pacing angrily at the other side of the room, stopping to look up as Sloane entered, then going back to pacing once again. Torréon was playing a miniature game of tug-o-war with Ortega's shoelace, and Sai was sitting on the bed. He looked sadder than Sloane had ever seen him, and Sloane found this rather surprising; he hadn't known that Ortega and Sai were such good friends. But in a close group, he supposed, of only six men, everyone was bound to be at least somewhat close. Sloane looked over to Ortega. True to motif, the young carrier was laid on his back, asleep on his own bed, with his boxes packed and his friends all around him, and he looked totally, utterly, completely at peace. Acceptance.
Sloane smiled at all of them.
"It's almost time." he said. Jesse jerked his head up.
"We know. James said he would call when the truck got here."
Sloane ignored the snippiness and nodded simply, sitting down on a clear spot on the opposite bed. He peered up at Jesse.
"Did Michael call after I went to bed?"
Jesse hesitated, and the pause made Sloane sorry he'd asked. The answer was obvious now, from the tense set of Jesse's jaw, the pacing, the anger in his voice and his eyes.
"No." Sloane swallowed and tried to think of something to change the topic. Jesse shrugged his shoulders and tried to look nonchalant. "Well, he probably just got busy. There's a lot of catching up to do, even when you're not even gone a week."
Sloane nodded agreeably.
"Of course. Work can wear even the most dedicated man out."
They let the silence descend for a minute, and the room lapsed back into the curious, uneasy waiting-feel of before.
Suddenly, the wall-unit phone rang.
Sai leapt up to answer it. Ortega startled awake and began to sit up; Suleiman rushed to help him. Jesse stood helplessly, rooted to the floor where he was, looking for all the world like a frightened rabbit. Sloane surveyed the scene before him. Perhaps this was why Vichy had chosen to leave as he had - no tense conversations, no fast-beating hearts, no regrets of words or language - none of the things that accompanied goodbyes. He'd left only letters, and the promise of his love.
Sai was hanging up the phone now, turning back to the group with an expression that was mixed in excitement and worry.
"It's here. The men will be in any moment."
It was done. It was said. Then, like well-trained audience members at a concert recitals, they all quietly took up their seats again.

~:~

Within an hour, Ortega's room had been moved. It was all loaded onto the truck, prepared to travel onto base so that it could go with them on the train to Jalisco. The train left, James reminded, at five-thirty. Goodbyes would have to be swift. They had better be sure they were on it. Ortega stood by the open back door of the shiny black car and kissed each of his Center friends goodbye. Suleiman went first, then Sai, then Sloane. Jesse was last of all.
"Be good, Jesse." Tega whispered in his ear when they leaned close to embrace. "Be good always, and remember to behave as if I were here."
Jesse laughed.
"I've gotten in most of my trouble while you were here."
Tega frowned.
"Then Jesse, just behave."
he leaned forward to hug his friend.
"Baby friends, right? You'll come to visit?"
Jesse felt a tiny sting at the corner of his eyes.
"Of course I will. I'll come to visit." he took a minute to swallow a lump in his throat. "Hey, don't forget me, OK?"
Ortega pulled away and looked at him with disdain.
"Jesse Paik O'Connor. As if I could ever forget you." Jesse smiled and Ortega leaned in for one more hug.
"I love you, Jesse. Please come see me."
Jesse nodded; he couldn't speak.
"Tega, sweetheart."
Everyone recognized the tone. James was reminding him that it was time to go.

Jesse stood outside for a long time in the rising daylight, watching his breath disappear into the cold winter dawn as the black car drove off down the road.

~:~

Havar opened his eyes with a jolt. The dream had been alive, it had been so dangerous, so close and so real...where was he? He blinked a few times and made out the shape of the porthole, and the moon through it. Still on the ship from the Canal State, then. Havar couldn't see much of anything, not in this room or from this angle, but he could feel the steady rock and sway of the water below them. In the darkness, he flailed out for Demen. The man was awake immediately to hold him.
"I'm here. I'm here, Havar."
Havar's breathing began to calm.
"Bad dream?"
he nodded. Demen didn't need much more than that; he understood Havar's need for silence, his reticence to talk, and the little jumps he made whenever he was unexpectedly touched.
"Well, it's OK now. You're here. You're safe. You're fine. And luck be with us, we won't have much longer on this ship." the doctor rolled over onto his side under the thin blanket and settled one arm over Ortega for comfort. "You and I are almost to India."

~:~

The priest raised his hand and indicated the eager-looking young carrier and the officer standing in front of him.
"And do you, Tiger Vincent DuCourt, take this man, Miljan Ivanov Cubrovic, to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part?"
Tiger grinned.
"Oh, I definitely do. Yeah, I totally do."
Behind him there was a coughing which could have been anyone, but was most likely Vincent DuCourt. Tiger squeezed Miljan's hand. Miljan smiled at him, but his face looked tense, strained. Tiger supposed that was probably just been the bruising from the day before. His father hit hard.

The priest continued talking, but neither of them heard anything else until the word 'kiss'. That was when Miljan turned to Tiger, looking at him so intensely that Tiger thought he'd melt, leaned forward with a face that was the picture of raw intent, and kissed him.
General Wilkinson applauded. Staff Sgt. Vincent DuCourt narrowed his eyes.
Outside, the sky began to grey in the waning afternoon.

~:~

It was almost noon when Jesse finally heard anything from Michael. Jess had called him already, twice, over at the officer's quarters on base, but had both times gotten no answer. He'd tried calling Soria to talk about it afterwards, but at the last minute, had chickened out and hung up the phone. Now he lay, alone on the bed in his room, replaying the honeymoon over and over in his head again and thinking, that altogether, it was shaping up to be just a perfectly awful day.

He sat straight up in bed when he heard the knock on the door. He waited a few tense seconds, hoping whoever it was would just go away. They didn't. There was another knock, then a quiet voice.
"Jesse, it's me, Michael. Can you please let me in?"
Jesse jumped out of bed faster than he'd have been willing to admit and ran to the door. Just before reaching it, he paused. Why was Michael knocking? Why hadn't he used his key? Jesse went to the door, twisted the knob just enough to open it, and walked away (so as not to appear too eager). The door swung open just enough to allow Michael in. Jesse was sitting anxiously on a chair, looking expectantly at him, but doing his best to appear nonchalant. Michael closed the door securely behind him and strolled in, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His hair was ruffled, his uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and his tie loosened, and he looked as if he hadn't slept. Jesse felt pangs of worry. Michael looked around.
"Anyone else here?"
Jesse shook his head. Michael looked to either side of himself, then began to move closer to Jesse, keeping his eyes down. When he had gotten close enough so that he stood over Jesse's chair, he stopped. Jesse swallowed nervously. The silence was killing him.
"I have something for you."
Jesse looked up and tried to meet Michael's eyes, but his husband looked away as he retrieved something from his left pocket. He held it out in a closed fist and Jesse put an open palm underneath to catch it. His mother's gold bangle dropped into his hand. Jesse's heart began pounding immediately.
"What is this?"
"It's hers. Your mother's. Soria's."
"I know that. Where did you get this?"
"She sent it with me. To you. For you. She said that when you guys meet up again, you can give it back to her."
Jesse had been examining the gold bangle for any signs of stress - had it been removed under duress? Soria almost never took these off. At the last sentence, his head snapped up.
"When we meet up again?"
he jumped to his feet.
"Where is she? Where has she gone? Did somebody take her?!"
Michael lifted his head and tired eyes looked straight into Jesse's.
"Your mother is safe, Jesse. She's fine."
Jesse shook his head, backed away.
"What did she say to you? When did you see her? How do you know she's fine?! She could be anywhere, anything could have happened!"
Michael just waited for his tirade to finish.
"I know she's fine, Jesse, because I saw to her myself. Yesterday. Well, the night before last. After I dropped you off at the Center, I went to find her."
"Why?" there was so much accusation in that one simple word, that for a moment, it gave Michael pause.
"Because yesterday, I went to see Soria Paik, helped her pack her essential items, and skipped duty to drive her to my father's safehouse in the gulflands. From there, I arranged a pickup with a family friend of ours; they put her on a train to Monterrey. She called me this morning to say that she'd arrived. She'll stay for ten days at the Admiral's second safehouse in the Southern Territory. That should give you and I enough time to get our stuff together and get the hell out. We'll meet her in Monterrey, then decide where to go from there."
Michael told the story wearily, as if he'd explained it to Jesse a thousand times before. Jesse was silent.
"You - but - we're leaving?"
Michael nodded.
"What about your job? And the house on base?"
Michael laughed a short, barking laugh.
"There is no house on base. Not anymore, Jesse. Not now."
Jesse's eyes widened.
"What?"
Michael shrugged.
"I'm done at DHI. No job. No kissing ass for the general. No work at all with carriers. Because I helped Soria to disappear...they were angry. He was angry, honestly. I didn't tell you before, but it was the general who'd asked after her. Anyway, they blacklisted me. I no longer have any authority in the realm of carrier affairs." here, a mirthless laugh. "They even took my passcard away."
So that was why he'd knocked. For a moment, Jesse was struck with the awful thought that perhaps this was all some kind of elaborate joke, because nobody was that kind, that selfless, that giving, that good. Not even Michael.
"The Admiral's going to try to do something, to salvage it. If there's anything left to salvage."
Jesse didn't know what to say. He wanted to thank Michael, but everything he thought of just seemed so hollow, somehow. Empty. He stared at his husband instead. Michael blinked at him for a few minutes.
"So there you go, Jesse. Soria is fine. Your mother is safe. I hope that you are happy."
Jesse didn't say anything else, and neither did Michael, and so after some time, the rumpled-looking officer just sighed, turned, and quietly left Jesse's room.

~:~

When Ortega woke, there was an afternoon sun in the sky. He blinked his eyes, rapidly, then looked around. James was in the seat to his left, staring idly out the window as the world passed by in a blur. Tega stretched, then rubbed his belly.
"I'm hungry. What time is it?"
James didn't look at him.
"One. I'll get you something from the food car."
Tega sat up fully and looked around them. The scenery outside continued to rush by. The cabin they were in was almost empty - there were a few other people, including another couple, scattered throughout the train. Tega remembered the train being almost full when they had boarded; most everyone must have disembarked sometime while he'd been asleep.
"Where are we?"
"Passing San Antonio. We've got about four hours left." James looked over at him tenderly.
"How'd you sleep?"
Tega smiled.
"I dreamed we were there already."
James smiled back and reached out to squeeze his hand. A quiet moment passed between them. Suddenly, James frowned.
"Are we gonna be OK, Ortega?"
Tega patted his hand reassuringly.
"We're going to be just fine."

~:~

The rap at the door startled Sai out of his reading. He'd spent most of the day lying in Ortega's now-empty bed, alternately sleeping and reading aloud to Suleiman. It hadn't been a particularly spectacular day. Ortega had left, just as Vichy, and Honesty before him also had, and it was always a somber day, to Sai, when he said goodbye to a friend. It seemed always like a death; there was so apparent the possibility that he would never see them again. The rapping sounded again, and now Suleiman, who had before been lying on his own bed with his eyes closed, sat up and looked at Sai.
"I'll get it."
he closed the book, ignoring Suleiman's studious gaze, and went to the door.
Outside, Broussard was standing, not in uniform, with his arms clasped behind his back.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Wyatt. I did not intend to disturb your libre temps. However I do think I am in possession of something which might be of interest to you."
Sai's expression was first confused, then suspicious, then, as he caught the glint of a twinkle in Broussard's eye, delighted.
Sai made a wait-here gesture with his hand and turned back to Suleiman, who was no longer sitting up; he was again lying on his back on his own bed, eyes closed and face peaceful.
"Sue? I'm goin' out for a while, man."
Suleiman opened his eyes. Sai shifted anxiously to the other foot.
"Might see a movie, hang with some friends, pick up some stuff from my room - listen, don't worry if I'm home a little late, is all. And I'll probably get dinner by myself."
Suleiman nodded, the movement almost imperceptible.
"Be careful, Sai Maka."
Sai turned around to face him; Sul was sitting cross-legged on the bed now, his silver eyes alert and penetrating - seeing into a something that Sai had never been able to fathom. Sai nodded.
"I will. But it's only a night out, Sue. Don't worry. I'm sure I'll be fine."

~:~

Villa Guerrero was exactly and nothing like he'd remembered it being. Where there had been schools and busy intersections in his childhood, there were now empty ruins and tiny markets. The houses had changed, their owners dead or moved on or fled or gone to war. The streets sounded different when he walked upon them - the familiar pit-pat had a new depth to it, a new sadness. He supposed the earth had been pressed down by the walking of the leaving and the dead. James asked him where he'd played.
"Um..." he spun around for a minute, trying to get his bearings in a world that was utterly changed. "There. And there. See that big rock? That was the safe spot when we played tag."

And they had turned then to see his grandmother and his grandfather, now older and leaning heavily on a cane, standing there in the road to greet them. His grandmother flung her arms out, and for a minute, the wind took ahold of her hair and her dress and Ortega feared she would be carrief off, fly away before he ever got to go to her and tell her he loved her. James squeezed his hand once and he dropped his bags and he ran. Her scent was still the same; it always would be. He held onto her shoulder and wanted to cry.

Then, suddenly, she tensed and he realized that James was behind him, standing there, intruding on this perfect moment. With great effort, he pulled himself away and made the introductions in Spanish.
"Mama, this is James. Papa, James. He's my husband. Sort of. In three days, at least."
Amusement flickered across his grandmother's face but quickly disappeared as both of them reached out to greet James formally, then lead the two of them back to the house.

~:~

Jesse sat for a long time alone in his room. Outside, the sky blended into afternoon, then dusk, then the dim light of evening. He didn't read; he didn't eat; he didn't do anything but think about Michael and wonder if their lives were really fucked irrevocably up.

Collapsing on the bed, he decided: he wanted to talk to Soria. Was she really safe? Was Michael lying? It disturbed him, now, to think that Michael would lie. Before, he had expected it, anticipated it, waited for the day that it would come. Now, he felt only terror at the possibility. He rolled over onto his side. No job. No DHI. But that had been Michael's doing, not his - not his own. He had never ordered Michael to go and seek his mother out and make her a fugitive in their own country. He had never told him to be a hero.

But that was a selfish interpretation, because really, Jesse knew that he had. He hadn't demanded outright, but he'd made it clear that any injury which came to Soria would be held in direct account to Michael and their marriage. He'd created Michael's responsibility. So Michael, it seemed, had done the noble thing. And now he suffered for it. They both suffered. Jesse self-deprecatingly wondered if he had a need to suffer; if maybe it was the only way he ever learned. Jesse rolled over onto his back. He hadn't even had a chance to apologize. He needed to talk to Michael.

~:~

Home was more like he remembered it than the town had been. His room, in fact, was still almost exactly the same, although Tega noticed as they entered that the garden had been expanded, and his grandparents had annexed part of the house next door. A walkway and more gardens now connected the two, and the fence had been extended to wrap around both.
"You'll stay in the second house." his Mama explained as they went walking in, Torréon awake and released from his crate and following behind them. (James and Papa had gone to have a tour of the grounds.) "So that you'll have some privacy."
Tega reddened a little bit at her implication, and wondered privately if she knew about the baby. But of course she knew, he thought. It would be obvious; in the way he walked, the way he couldn't stop himself from touching his stomach, the frequency with which he slept and ate, and the way that James attended, almost obsequiously, to his every mood. If she didn't know now, she was sure to know soon.
"I'm pregnant." he blurted it, hoping that to say it quick would take some of the power out of the words. It didn't, but neither did it seem to strengthen them. Either way, his Mama didn't react unduly; she simply paused and fiddled with the knob on the door she was leading him into, trying to coax it into working.
"I know, Ortega." she said, letting them both in the door. "I know how these things go."
Inside, as if the shanty wooden door with the half-broken knob offered some sort of protection, she asked him conspiratorially if he was happy about it. Ortega thought.
"I wasn't, before, when I thought I would be alone. But if I'm here - if I am with you," he indicated not just her, but the entire place - home, Villa Guerrero, the South. "I think I'll be fine. I know I will be. So, I think that I was not happy before, but I think that I am happy now."
She smiled broadly and hugged him tight, squeezing the air out of his lungs.
"I worried so much about you." she whispered into his hair. "Promise me you'll never go away for so long again."
Ortega smiled sincerely now, feeling giddy with nostalgia and homesickness and the novelty of travel and her love.
"I promise, Mama. I promise."

Ortega clung to her in that sweet moment, with the sun going down fast in Jalisco and the chill of nighttime coming in with the breeze, and his family's love around him like a blanket. He had so much to tell her, so much to say...then it was all interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a baby crying.
Ortega snapped his head up to look at her. His grandmother's face was a study of mixed emotions - anxiousness, fear, delight, worry, mischief.
"Excuse me, please." she said calmly. "I suppose our new son wants his mother."

~:~

Sloane was in his room, packing, but when Jesse noticed this, he had neither time nor inclination to ask why. He half-knocked and burst in the door.
"Sign me out!"
Sloane paused with one hand hovering above a box of clothes, and stared at him, perplexed.
"What?"
"Sign me out! I've got to go to base. I need to talk to Michael."
Clint appeared out of the bathroom, his arms clutched full of toiletries, and dropped them carelessly into a box. Sloane threw a quick glare at him, then turned his attention wearily back to Jesse.
"What is this? What's going on?"
"Come on, Sloane, I gotta go!"
Jesse seemed a little excitable, and Sloane put up a hand to calm him.
"OK. OK. Calm down. What's the problem?"
"No problem, I just need my husband!"
Clint came up behind Sloane, resting a hand around his waist.
"I can take him to sign out, can't I? Do you want to stay here and I'll go? I don't mind."
Jesse raised an eyebrow at the stranger he now felt was standing here in Clint's place. Sloane put one hand over Clint's and patted it gently.
"How about we both go?"
"Sounds great!" Jesse interrupted. "Let's just head out..."
"Alright, alright." Sloane was almost grinning at Jesse's excitement. "Just give me a minute."

The in/out desk made him take a chaperone, since he was after all, going on-base alone. Jesse pointed out that he would just be going straight in to his husband's room, but they insisted and when he got irritated, it just seemed to slow the process, so he just agreed, then sat quietly in the hallway with Sloane and Clint while they waited for the drone to come.

Then he was off, and the chaperone had to rush to keep up with him as he practically ran out of the shuttle cab and into the main entrance of Michael's building.

Inside, he was up the stairs in three bounds, then tearing down the hallway and around the corner to where Michael's room was. Just outside of it, he had to pause for a second because he couldn't remember if it was 7E or 7F, and then he remembered saying to himself that it was F, as in Fuck You and so he banged confidently on the correct door.

It took a minute, but Michael opened it, shirtless in his pyjama pants, his eyes blurred with sleep. He blinked a few times at his visitor.
"Jesse?"
"Michael! Let me in!"
Michael rubbed his hands over his face and stepped back from the door. Jesse looked pointedly at the chaperone behind him, and Michael gave the authorization for the drone to leave. Jesse shut the door, cringing a little when it slammed harder than he'd intended.
Michael was, with great effort, more awake now, although he was very clearly fatigued.
"I have an idea."
Michael stared at him. Jesse stepped forward.
"A way I can maybe help out with things, I mean." Michael continued to stare. Jesse took a breath and squared up his shoulders.
"You did a really nice thing for me, to take care of Soria. I didn't - I know I made it seem that way, but...you didn't have to do it."
Michael raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet.
"You never have to do these things, these kind things, but you do them. And I didn't really think about it before now, but...I, um, I never really tell you thanks. And I know I get so mad at you sometimes, about things that really aren't your fault. I mean, don't get me wrong - we both live in a fucked up world, and we're all a little bit fucked up in it, but.." here, he stepped closer to Michael so that they were looking closely into each other's eyes.
"But maybe you're not fucked up as bad as everyone else. I shouldn't punish you for what other people have done. To me, or to anyone. I think maybe, in doing that, I was kind of wrong."
Michael's lip quirked up a little.
"Maybe?"
Jesse glared.
"I'm doing the best I can, Michael. You could work with me here."
Michael inclined his head and gestured for Jesse to go on.
"So I had this idea. And it's not really a part of what I thought was my plan, either for this week or this month or just life in general. But, I guess, sometimes things happen that weren't a part of the plan. But they can be good things nonetheless, right?"
Michael tilted his head.
"And we have this life together now, I guess, you and me, so maybe we could kind of make a new plan. And maybe it could start with this."
Michael glanced to the side, then back.
"OK. What's the plan?"
"A baby."
Michael was so surprised that it even startled Jesse. He stepped back a few steps.
"What?!"
Jesse frowned at his reaction.
"What?"
Mike shook his head.
"No, no, nothing. That just - I didn't expect - I mean, honestly, I've been asleep for about four or five hours now and then you show up here banging on the door and drop a bomb like - it's just a surprise, is all."
Jesse shrugged.
"Well. Don't take it any kind of way. It's just for your job. I don't really want - I just thought maybe it could help."
Michael tilted his head.
"Like maybe they wouldn't think you were such a problem kid if they didn't think I was so much of a..." he still had trouble saying the word. "you know. Liability. Then maybe they'd be able to forget about what you did with Soria. We have a government that is good at forgetting."
Jesse couldn't keep the bitterness out of the end, and Michael was silent.
"So I don't know, maybe I could act like I was good, at least for a while, and then we could have this baby, and you could have a family, and your boss would forget, and everything would be fine."
Michael raised an eyebrow. Jesse started to feel embarrassed.
"I just thought maybe I could do something nice for a change. You know, be the hero for once."
Michael tried to suppress his smile, but it sneaked out anyway. He leaned forward, and hugged Jesse, laughing into his hair.
"Jess, sweetheart. You're a hero everyday."
Jesse's heart lifted, and he compensated for the momentary giddiness by putting on his harshest frown.
"Well, listen, do you want to do it or not?"
"Do what?"
"The kid! You don't listen."
Michael laughed and kissed him, full on.
"I love you spectacularly, Jesse Paik O'Connor."
Jesse couldn't stop himself from grinning this time.
"I'll take it that's a yes."
Michael pulled away from him again, looking a little sheepish.
"I have to admit, I actually thought of your plan before, but I didn't want to - I mean, I didn't, and still don't, want to push you into doing something you're not ready for."
Jesse reached up and ran his hand through Michael's short hair.
"It's OK. No pushing. And while we're on that topic, I'm sorry about the bowl." Now it was Jesse's turn to look sheepish.
"I didn't know it was your mom's. And that's still no excuse, but I'm sorry I was an ass about the whole thing. And I'm sorry I threw the knife. And I'm sorry I said I was paying my ransom. And I'm sorry I ruined our honeymoon. And I'm sorry I - "
Michael kissed him.
"Jesse, baby? It's OK. I forgive you."
Jesse exhaled a relieved breath.
"That's kind of nice to know. So...since we're all in agreement on the forgiveness and the plan, why don't we get things started. Which way's your bed?"
Michael smiled happily, trailing after Jesse, who was pulling him along by his left thumb.
"I just have one request, Jesse - could I possibly get just fifteen more minutes of sleep first?"

~:~

Jesse swore at the phone when it rang and checked the time on the clock by Michael's bed. 10 pm. Not very late. But, truth be told, he could go right back to sleep; he felt pretty tired. Michael woke at the second ring and rolled over to answer it. After a minute of listening to an excited-sounding speaker on the other end, he held it out to Jesse.
"Jess, sweetheart? It's for you."
Jesse took the receiver. Ortega's voice exploded out of the other end.
"Jesse! Thank goodness you're awake! Listen, I am in Jalisco and everything is fine. But there is a story, a little problem that I wondered if you or Michael might be able to help me with."
Jesse cleared his throat and sat up.
"Problem?"
Ortega affirmed this from the other end of the line.
"Yes. My grandmother has a baby."
Jesse was silent.
"It's not her baby, of course, no. But she found him. The mother died. He was born of a woman, Jesse. Nobody knows but the town. And me. And James. And you. And Michael, probably. But we wants to keep that secret, you see. I hope these phones are not tapped. Anyway, it has to be a secret because if the government knew, who knows what would happen to the baby? And now we are here, and the town is growing, my grandmother cannot keep the baby. And he has no family - it was just his mother and the woman's father, but the old man died a few weeks ago and now there's no one left. And we can keep him, but with a baby of my own in the summertime coming, we thought maybe it would be better to find him a good home forever, you know? Where he can be the only baby, and be loved and cared for. So I need your help. I need to find him a home, but it must be a good one. Someone who will help him, educate him, raise him well - you know? Someone who wants, but more importantly, deserves a son?"
Next to Jesse, listening in on the conversation, Michael jerked and sat up.
"Tell him I think I can help."

~:~

"It's not fair that you get to be on top just because you push me around and you're bigger."
Miljan snorted happily and nuzzled the ticklish spot between Tiger's shoulderblades.
"Yes, it is fair. It is a law. The Law of Bigger."
Tiger narrowed his eyes at Miljan over his shoulder.
"You're a bully."
Miljan nestled down deeper into the blankets, dragging Tiger down with him.
"I love you."
Tiger wriggled upwards a little so that his head protruded from the blankets again.
"Well, you could love me a little more gently. That way maybe I'll last longer."
Miljan laughed, pulled Tiger back down under the covers, and kissed him. Outside, the first flakes of snow began to fall in the last hour of the month of November.