Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLIOT SAGGED AGAINST THE cold wooden wall of a hastily constructed medical building, a small one room cottage really, his breath puffing in front of him in wispy white clouds.
Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and fought to steady himself.
Warren was going to be fine. Doctor Browne assured them he simply needed rest to recover.
It wasn’t like the last time. It wouldn’t take days.
He couldn’t prevent himself from reliving the moment Warren collapsed in his arms, dead weight he’d been forced to lower to the ground.
He was cradling Warren’s head when Bellona returned.
She called his name, but he hadn’t been able to tear himself away from checking if Warren was all right.
When she’d called him by his given name, Elliot jerked his gaze up to meet hers, and her eyebrows flew up at whatever she read in his face.
He’d forced himself to respond normally, to push his features into a neutral expression, but he suspected it was far too late for that.
They hadn’t spoken of it in the intervening hours with Warren unconscious inside the building and waiting for Doctor Browne, who Elliot gathered was either skilled or in the know, to have a few spare moments.
Many cases inside, and in the dozens of similar buildings, were much, much, worse. Warren had been at the bottom of everybody’s list. With no external injuries and a magical root to his problem, Elliot was surprised Doctor Browne found time to see him at all.
The doctor was dead on his feet, his flaming hair in irreparable disorder, and glasses slightly askew in front of exhausted aqua eyes.
But he seemed competent and wasn’t outwardly hostile while Elliot explained what happened.
After a rushed exam and diagnosis, he’d given the nurse instructions and moved on to the next patient.
Elliot was only in the way. He couldn’t stand there staring like some lost pup at a man he wasn’t even supposed to know, so he’d slunk outside.
A few more moments passed and the tightness in his chest eased ever so slightly. He focused on the way Warren had been ecstatic to see him. Fervently hoped that didn’t change when they actually had a full discussion.
Speaking of discussions, a presence settled beside him against the wall.
“You and I are due to talk,” Bellona said, her arm brushing his. He was probably infusing that simple action with too much meaning, but it felt like a sign of support.
Elliot scrubbed a hand over his numb face, his muscles aching with fatigue and strung tight. “Can it wait?”
Bellona’s dark brows lifted, her gaze skeptical. “Certainly. If you’d rather have this discussion with Corporal Sullivan awake and listening or in a house full of officers trained to observe absolutely everything.”
Elliot groaned. Those were infinitely worse options. “I can’t precisely speak freely out here either,” he informed her, eyes darting to soldiers and nurses passing them.
“Then, isn’t it a wonder that Courtemanche thought ahead to at least ensure we had a place to bed down tonight, and unlike the barracks you’ve been assigned, I’ve been given a private room usually reserved for dignitaries.
It’s rather lux for the front. I’m told they didn’t know quite where to place me, and I’m to be grateful for Général Courtemanche’s thoughtfulness in insisting I not be sent to sleep with the nurses. ”
“They’ll probably be watching to make sure you don’t bring any men in,” Elliot attempted to argue, if he could put off this conversation indefinitely that would truly be ideal.
She rolled her eyes at him, dropping a hand onto his shoulder. Of course she wasn’t going to let it go so easily. She was, quite possibly, the most stubborn person he had ever met, impossible to deter. “Then for heaven’s sake, let’s not get caught.”
“Wait! Not here.” Elliot searched the vicinity, eyes darting over shoddy wooden buildings in rows on either side of the wide dirt path.
“There,” he said, nodding to the shadowed recess between two of them near the end of the row.
“I’ll wait for you there. Take a small walk and come around the other side.
Let’s not attract too much attention, please. ”
Once they’d safely met again, Bellona made a rapid series of calculated transports until they found themselves in the shadows of the building she was assigned.
Getting inside undetected proved rather easier than it would have if she had actually been a dignitary and not simply afforded the comfort of one based on her position as Courtemanche’s favorite.
Not that he begrudged her the respect she richly deserved.
Bellona switched on the electric light as they entered.
There was an actual bed, albeit not luxuriously constructed.
It was made of a simple wood, no ornamentation.
The rest of the room contained sturdy matching furniture.
An armoire for suits or uniforms to be hung in, bedside stands, a chair and small table for dining at near the square window.
Lacy yellowing curtains covered the glass, obscuring the room from view.
“Very fancy,” Elliot said, examining everything and wondering who had stayed here prior to Bellona.
“And not at all what we’ve come here to speak about,” she replied archly.
“No.” Elliot wrapped his arms around himself, an old habit when he felt vulnerable. It made him appear immature, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“You know him, Stone. He knew you. How were you planning to conceal that from me?” Bellona asked, her eyes containing barely disguised hurt. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t trust her. Why he couldn’t.
Sending her a regretful smile, Elliot gently lifted a shoulder. “In all honesty, I hoped it might not be so obvious. We only met once before I left for this damned war, and he doesn’t—shouldn’t—remember the times we’ve crossed paths in, er, dreams.”
Bellona cocked an eyebrow. “Dreams as in…?”
“As in I dreamwalk, and I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself as well. But as for Sullivan and me, we hardly know one another.”
Bellona’s gaze narrowed, her hands landing on her hips in a pose that strongly reminded Elliot of his sisters. “I’m not utterly daft, you know. I’ve eyes. And they saw the way you looked at him. Any person of moderate intelligence could tell you’re fond of him.”
“I wouldn’t call it fond,” he said, face heating.
He cursed himself a thousand times for putting Sully in the position that their connection might be discovered.
And his stumbling over his words wouldn’t convince anyone.
“We really did only meet just before I left. I swear. There’s nothing—whatever you’re thinking—it’s nothing to do with him.
It’s only me, if you absolutely must be disgusted by anyone.
If you feel the need to report anyone. He’s only ever been a friend and—”
“I wish you’d stop lying. And for God’s sake stop worrying I’ll report anything. No one mentioned any such thing. What you say in this room never leaves it.” Bellona crossed her arms and sank onto the bed.
Elliot stared at her, stunned speechless for a moment. “Pardon?” he managed, and on the whole, at least that made sense.
“Don’t be so uptight, Stone.” Had he entered another reality?
As if anyone in his life had ever once accused him of that before.
Libertine? Yes. Uptight? Never. “If you enjoy men, and he enjoys men, I don’t give a toss.
I’m not utterly unaware of the world or cloistered away.
I’ve two younger brothers in this war, and I love them both dearly.
One of them, Peter, he’s that way too. And I’ll tell you the same blasted thing I told him when he turned up in my room with tears in his eyes at sixteen and confessed because he couldn’t bear hiding it any longer: It’s nothing to be ashamed of, some men simply prefer other men.
” Of course he believed that. He was only shocked she did.
Society in general certainly didn’t. She paused and tilted her head in consideration.
“I suppose it stands to reason that some women prefer women, and perhaps some prefer both or neither. Who am I to judge? I aim to fix things, not ruin them.”
Something released in Elliot’s chest, a shaky influx of relief followed by elation. It was an enormous comfort that in a world so dedicated to eradicating every facet of him, some wonderful, decent people, accepted him as he was.
“Thank you.” His voice was a little raw.
Clearing his throat first, he added, “I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I don’t believe there’s anything sinful in love or even pleasure.
I’m simply cautious. Not everyone believes as you do.
Here it’s even more dangerous.” More often than not, Elliot felt as if his bones might give out with the weight of the world and all the mounting expectations pressing in on him.
“I’m glad you know, truly. But it’s so much more complicated than that. ”
“All right, tell me,” she said, settling back against the wall and patting the mattress beside her.
And that too, reminded him of May and Hazel.
The three of them sitting in May’s bed, listening to her read them stories, giggling, and trading increasingly implausible tales of their own adventures until Mother would scoop him and Hazel up to deposit them back in their own beds, a kind smile on her face, smelling of flowers and all things wonderful. God, he missed them all.
Freeing himself from the recollection, Elliot crawled onto the bed next to Bellona, arms once again brushing. He spared a thought for the impropriety of getting into bed with her, but he never had paid much attention to propriety. Nothing untoward would occur.
Elliot closed his eyes and considered what he ought to say.
The government didn’t know about his ability to dreamwalk, he hadn’t told anyone here.
Not even his team. It was too private. He’d wanted to keep that one thing about himself out of the government’s hands.
But Bellona’s suspicions over what lay between him and Warren were enough to land him in hot water if she was so inclined.
And instead she’d been accepting. She’d offered friendship he sorely required.
This was an opportunity to show trust. Could he let himself trust her?
“I won’t judge,” she said softly. “But you need to confide in someone, and I need to be able to trust you. Tell me what you can.”
Slowly nodding, Elliot let out a breath, and expelled the entire story.
The guilt, and the need, and the pain he could already feel headed for him like a freight train when Warren inevitably confirmed he didn’t remember any of the last months.
The determination he had not to make things awkward while Warren was adjusting.
“I’ll tell him,” Elliot added hastily. “Of course I will, but he’s already got so much to deal with and now this on top of it all.”
Bellona’s gaze was sympathetic. “The right answer, if there is one, certainly isn’t obvious to me. All I see are mines in every direction and the slightest false move…” She shook her head. “Are you sure you’ve made the wisest decision, selecting him?”
“Yes,” Elliot said forcefully. Then, “No. Of course I can’t be sure. The Warren I know is only a part of him, not the whole man. Though what I knew of him was wonderful. Chicago on a night out isn’t the same as France at war, granted. But you saw his file.”
“It was impressive and risky. The things he can do will certainly be useful, I won’t deny that. But how will this affect you? The others? Him when he discovers the truth?” Elliot couldn’t take the concern in her voice.
Shoulders drooping, he buried his face in his bent knees like a child instead of the grown man and leader he was meant to be.
He was trying his best in these circumstances, he was, but his whole life he hadn’t been accountable to anyone.
Now that he was bearing responsibility, he loathed to disappoint.
The problem was, he couldn’t seem to stop doing it.
“I thought of that, I swear. And I don’t have the answers. I wish I did.”
“But you chose him anyway.” Bellona’s voice was soft, full of understanding he didn’t deserve in the least.
Elliot sat back up straight, looking her in the eyes, wanting her to know he was telling the truth. “He’s qualified. He’ll do his job. Wa—Sullivan, he doesn’t do things by halves. And he’ll excel at this, I know it.”
Bellona sighed and patted his arm. “You know I trust you. Even your somewhat questionable judgment. But tread lightly, Stone. Human emotions are disastrous enough without adding an empath into the mix.”
That warning rang in his ears as he snuck back to the barracks later, and again as he lay in the dark in a room full of strange snoring men, waiting for sleep to claim him.