Eric
ERIC
“God damn it all to the depths of piss-filled hell!”
His curse was immediately swallowed up by the noise of the precinct. It didn’t swallow the flare of agony from his foot, though. gritted his teeth, tapping his foot on the tiled floor in an attempt to ward off the pain. He’d heard once that swearing helped lessen pain, some sort of psychological trick. He wasn’t sure he believed that, but it made him feel better.
“Very smooth,” his partner, well, ex-partner, told him.
shot a glare at Sam. “What the fuck did you even put in that box, bricks?”
He twisted his scowl toward the offending box. He was supposed to be carrying the damned thing out to Sam’s truck. hadn’t expected how heavy the damn thing was, and it had slipped out of his fingers. Gravity had pulled its predictable trick, and he ended up with what felt like a broken foot.
“Right, blame me for your butterfingers. Sounds about right,” Sam said dryly.
“Oh, blow it out your ass, Sam.”
“Sounds like you’re in need of something up yours.”
growled. He was not going to dignify that with a response. He focused his irritation on the box, giving it a kick. Another spike of pain lanced up the already injured foot, and he hopped back with another series of curses.
“Mother fuck !”
Sam watched, hands gently laid in his lap. He remained quiet, looking at as he cursed the box, calling it all manner of names that would have made a veteran sailor blush.
“Feel better?” Sam asked as finished.
“No. Fuck you,” grumbled, refusing to look Sam in the eyes.
“I think Alice might object, but I’ll be sure to ask her.”
snarled, snatching up the box and pulling it close to his chest. “I repeat, fuck off.”
Sam smiled gently. “I’m going to miss you too.”
snorted, turning and walking out of the office the two of them had shared for almost five years. He was not making a fuss about the pain in his foot because the only partner he’d had was leaving. Sam deserved his promotion, even if it did require him to transfer to the other side of Port Dale. The guy was almost forty. If he wanted to take a quiet desk job instead of the chaos of walking the streets, he had every right.
It meant a new partner, one would have no say in, but that was life. His whole life had been decisions made without his input. Sam’s promotion was just one more thing for to have thrown at him that he was forced to adjust to. God knew was used to adjustment, even if it meant cursing and complaining.
He ignored the stares of the rest of the precinct as he stomped through the maze of cubicles that filled the room with clacking keyboards and the smell of coffee. Knick knacks and pictures of family and friends sat on the scattered desks. Officers milled about, some staring blankly at their screens, others talking with their neighbors. Just another day at the precinct, as everyone went about their business as though nothing had changed.
managed to get through the cubicles without any comment until he reached the front lobby.
“Oh, look who’s in a good mood today,” called a familiar voice.
Officer Cochran smirked at him from behind the front desk, a hiss from the dispatch radio beside him and a book in his hand.
glowered. “Fuck you too, David.”
David chuckled, pulling his latest book into view. “Good evenin’ to you too, . Helpin’ Sam get packed up, huh?”
turned his dark mood back to the box that had tried to break his foot. “Yeah, well, who the hell else is going to do it? You know he’s got a shit back. If he did it, I’d have to listen to him bitch for the rest of his shift.”
“Right, the shift he’s got like, what, two hours left on? The last one he’s gonna have here,” David pointed out, attention turning back to his book.
’s glare flickered and stuttered, and he turned on his heel before David could see his face. Okay, fine, maybe it did suck that Sam was leaving. The guy had been ’s partner the whole time had been on the force, and it hurt like hell to know the guy was leaving. could deal with someone else, someone new. At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself.
It was the leaving that stung. That’s what always hurt.
At least Sam’s car was parked on the front curb. It was unlocked too, which thought stupid, but kept it to a low grumble as he popped open the back hatch. Still grumbling, he shoved the heavy box into a free space.
God, he hated this. He was going to have to figure out how to say goodbye. Sam would only be on the other side of town, but it was still goodbye. Whoever said a door closing was the sign of another opening deserved a swift kick in the balls. Goodbye was goodbye, and he was tired of saying it.
* * *
He had been ten years old the first time he’d been forced to say goodbye.
Six, if he counted the goldfish he lost.
But ten was when he lost his parents.
had been the youngest of a dozen children. The baby, the unexpected gift, as his mother called him. By the time he was ten, all his siblings were adults, and some had kids of their own.
He wished he could claim a family so large was close, but that wasn’t the case. Ten kids had outgrown the nest and flown away as fast as possible. A mixture of life taking them away and parents who were...well, knew his parents weren’t the greatest. An absent mother and a domineering father wasn’t the greatest combination.
Their loss had still hurt. A drunk driver had taken them both. That the driver was ’s father didn’t matter much. In the end, had been left without parents, without guidance.
Without anything .
And his siblings? Well, they were a joke. No one wanted anything to do with the youngest brother. They had families of their own, spouses, jobs, anything that separated them from the life they’d known growing up. was a reminder of too much, the tight grip, both literal and figurative.
That was, except for Sean.
An older brother but still young in the scheme of twelve siblings. Sean was the only one who saw as parentless, aimless, and in desperate need of help. Sean had taken guardianship of . He had been the one to play parent, brother, and friend all in one. He had grabbed from the grasp of a system that might have cared or might not.
He’d shown him love, he’d shown him a home, he’d shown him a sacrifice.
Sean had been the only thing had ever found he could rely on.
* * *
A hand clapped him on the shoulder, ripping from his thoughts. He turned to face Sam’s frowning features. God, was Sam really that old? There were creases didn’t remember, mainly around the eyes, and a few wrinkles in the forehead. Sam’s eyes still twinkled, the same mischievous color, but it felt forced, hollow as he looked at .
“You okay?” Sam asked softly.
cleared his throat and stepped back. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
Sam looked him over. “You just...had a look.”
“A look,” repeated dryly, slamming the hatch shut.
“Yeah, one that said you were thinking things you have no business thinking.”
“Oh God, are you going to do that thing where you invite me to talk about my feelings and share your old man advice?” groaned.
Sam’s fingers tightened on his shoulder momentarily before pulling his hand away. knew his partner well enough to know the older man had something on his mind but wasn’t going to share. It was in the false light of his eyes, the way his smile didn’t reach them as he spoke.
“Naw, was gonna tell you that after this is over, we should get a couple of drinks,” Sam told him.
blinked. “Yeah?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. You and me, kid.”
rolled his eyes, stepping around Sam. “I’m not a kid. Bet I can drink you under the table.”
“That a promise or a bet?” Sam called after him.
“Both. You old bastard,” shot back, sneering at Sam’s knowing smirk.
* * *
“I’m gonna miss you.”
Sam’s words sent a wave of warmth through . They were actually clear as the two of them stumbled out of the noisy bar. wasn’t quite sure what the name of the dive was, but Sam had insisted on it. All it had taken was a few hours and one too many rounds, and the two of them were left stumbling and weaving down the sidewalk.
snorted. “Like Europe misses the plague.”
Sam chuckled. “Naw. You’re a good kid.”
“Fuck you too,” said companionably.
Sam, predictably, ignored him. “You act like you got your shit together and that you’re just fine being a giant jackass, but you know what? You got a good heart. You give a shit.”
shook his head, hooking his arm tighter around Sam’s waist. “You are drunk.”
“Yeah, I am. But I’m telling the truth.”
rolled his eyes but focused on trying to keep the two of them steady. The one good thing about Sam's chosen bar was that they weren’t that far from ’s apartment. It might not be much, but he had a decent enough couch for the guy to crash on.
“Shit,” Sam murmured in the silence. “Wha’ time is it?”
“Past your bedtime, old man,” told him.
“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin’. I’m still able to kick your ass.”
didn’t doubt it. Sam might be happy to take a life behind a desk, but the guy was tough. He stood a head taller than ’s measly height, and he was broad. struggled to put on muscle mass, no matter how hard he tried. Meanwhile, Sam, despite being several years older, kept his impressive bulk with minimal effort.
“Just don’t get my face. It’s all I got,” warned him.
They stumbled at the front door of ’s apartment building as Sam chuckled. “And that’s another thing.”
“Oh Christ,” muttered as he fished his keys out.
“A guy as young and good-looking as you should have guys all over you.”
“You hitting on me, Sam? Because that’s a little weird. And not just because you’ve got a loving wife and two kids.”
“Oh, shut up. Just because I’m straight don’t mean I can’t tell a good-looking man from an ugly one.”
“I’m relieved to know you’re comfortable in your sexuality.”
Sam shoved him through the door with surprising strength. “Only problem with your love life is you .”
watched carefully as they mounted the stairs. “Oh, thanks, Sam. I didn’t know you gave a shit about who was fucking me.”
Sam snorted, leaning heavily on the rail as he climbed the stairs. “Fucking you? Ain’t what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
“Is this where you go from ex-partner to matchmaker on me? I’ll be honest, that sounds terrible. You’re a horrible judge of character,” told him.
“Fuck you too,” Sam grunted as he reached the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, same,” said as he shoved his key into the deadbolt of his apartment.
“What were we talking about?” Sam asked as he stumbled in behind .
flipped the entryway’s light on but left the rest off. It was enough to light the spacious living room with his large TV and sprawling couch. There were a few other pieces of furniture, a coffee table, the entertainment system his TV sat on, and a huge chair beside the couch. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration. Decor had never been his thing.
But it was home, it was his, and hell, it was comfortable.
“We were talking about how you need some sleep,” told him.
Sam squinted. “Pretty sure you’re full of shit.”
rolled his eyes, dragging Sam over to the couch. “Just lay down and get comfortable. I’ll get your dumb, drunk ass something to curl up with.”
“Fuckin’ sound like my wife,” Sam muttered, even as he did as he was told.
grunted but otherwise ignored him as he stepped away from the couch. He walked past the enclosed kitchen and the dining room. Stopping in the hallway that led to his bedroom, he opened the closet door. Pulling out a fresh pair of pillows and a blanket, he closed the door before returning to the living room.
Sam looked comfortable curled up on the couch, and carefully placed a pillow under his head and shoved the other into Sam’s arms to hold. Rolling his eyes, he tossed the blanket over him, grumbling about needy partners who didn’t know their ass from their elbows.
Knowing Sam was set for the night, turned and walked away. He was once more at the mouth of the hallway when Sam’s soft voice reached his ears. His now ex-partner’s words sucked the air from ’s lungs and left him cold.
“Always wondered what got you so bad that you don’t let no one in. Who broke your heart, kid?”
said nothing, standing still, waiting to see if Sam said anything else. When the silence stretched long enough for to hear Sam’s heavy breathing, he let his legs carry him forward.
He should have headed straight for the bed against the back wall of his bedroom. A place he was used to curling up on his own, balled up in the blankets that kept him secure and warm. It was his sanctuary, his place to hide from the world and his thoughts.
Instead, he found himself back at the closet, his hand reaching for the light. He pulled a small box from the top shelf. Once, it had held some gift, though he couldn’t remember what. The lid opened to a velvet-lined interior, where only a few items lay.
A necklace of dried daisies. His mother had made it with him on a warm summer evening when had been seven. On it was a jagged piece of clay. Sean had made it when he’d been fifteen, part of a strange statue he’d created. The only thing to survive the kiln had been that one piece, and he’d presented it to with a tearful apology.
And a broken necklace. Once, it had held a class ring, a ring too big to fit ’s tiny fingers. It had been a promise of something great, something meaningful.
And it had been a lie.
The necklace no longer held the ring, and its chain was broken. Torn from his neck by his own hand when he’d known he was being left behind, being abandoned . The ring had been thrown back, knowing the promise was broken.
His fingers traced the necklace.
“Fuck this.”
His snarl came just as he snapped the box shut and shoved it back on the top shelf. Darkness spilled over him as he yanked the light pull, almost breaking it. Without glancing at the closet, he threw himself onto the bed and tightly drew the blankets around him.
Alcohol was a relief to him then, dragging him down into dreamless sleep.