ARDAN
Ardan lay on his back, one hand folded under his head, the other circling Alasdair’s slim waist in a protective gesture. For the first time in his life, he could relax and enjoy his life, without having to permanently look over his shoulder. It was a pleasant feeling, making him all warm and fuzzy inside.
Or maybe it was the presence of the boy next to him? Alasdair was lazily brushing his fingertips up and down the man’s torso, a beautiful smile on his lips. Yes, Ardan said to himself, Spitfire’s smile was the source of his happiness, the reason all his mornings were bright, even if the sky was cloudy.
“I love your smile,” Alasdair murmured, his hand laying still on the man’s bare chest. “Seeing you so carefree, so relaxed makes my heart sing, your smile chases all my worries away.”
“Then I’ll show it more often,” Ardan whispered, turning on one side, locking eyes with the owner of his heart. “I’ll give you everything you’ll need, ask and want. I’ll never leave your side, always here to protect you.”
“I already know that, don’t you think?” Alasdair softly spoke, running his hand through his boyfriend’s strands that reached his shoulders. “You've shown me since the beginning, you’ve been so patient and loving, even when I was too stubborn to see it, even when I’ve stabbed you through the heart.”
“All those things happened because of me, of my habit to keep everything inside, to take the burden on my shoulders alone. But, at that time, that was the right thing to do. The boys were all younger than me, and they needed a father figure, someone they could rely on. I was the only one around, so I took the role and never looked back, wanting to give them the affection and family that were taken from me so early in life.”
“What family are you talking about? The people who sold you into slavery? What kind of affection did they show you?” Alasdair raised his voice, still revolted about the way his boyfriend’s parents treated him.
Ardan fell silent, continuing to trace the contour of the redhead’s face with the pad of his thumb. A part of him didn’t want to burden his beloved Spitfire with the deeply-buried secrets of his troubled past. The other part was loyal to the promise he made to himself when Lothier came to collect his debt, to never keep things from Alasdair, no matter how dark they may be.
“The nightmares that I’ve had lately, they were more like suppressed memories of a very distant past, a time of joy and happiness. I was four or five, I think, when cruel hands took me from my dying mother’s arms. I cried until I passed out, then...nothing. When I woke up, there was pitch black in my head, I couldn’t remember anything, not even my name.”
“And the bastards took advantage that you’ve lost your memory, feeding you lies about them being your family. What kind of despicable creatures they were!” Alasdair’s nostrils flared, his eyes darker and narrowed to two slits.
“No, on the contrary, they were very disappointed that I couldn’t remember who I was. After treating me well for a while, one of them told me he was my father and called me an ungrateful little bitch for not remembering him or my brothers, and started to kick me in the ribs with the tip of his boot. It was only the beginning of hell.” Ardan stared blankly at the ceiling, the memories vivid and fresh.
“That goddamn beast punished you for not remembering who you were? Why did he and the others kidnap you, if they were so desperate for you to remember your identity? Usually, it’s the other way around,” Alasdair frowned. The mystery surrounding his lover’s identity just got deeper and darker.
“I once heard my so-called father talking to another man, saying that I lost my memories from the shock and he was going to give me another shock, so I could remember. It was then when I understood why he was beating me, but I guess I repressed that memory, too. This was before everything went for the better, or so I’ve thought,” Ardan shuddered while reliving that stage in his life.
For Alasdair, seeing his lover like that was heartbreaking. In spite of regularly seeing Elizabeth and occasionally Carter, in spite of opening to him and spending long hours in the company of the others, the man was sometimes still captive in the hell that took away his childhood, innocence and dignity.
In those moments, the redhead was holding him tight, whispering words of reassurance, until he came back. In the two years since he was living at the base, Alasdair learned when Ardan needed space and when he was silently asking for company. In those moments, he was screaming for hugs, caresses and butterfly kisses, so the redhead started to give them to him.
Like always, Alasdair kissed his still shy lover on the forehead, going down to the temple and cheeks. Once there, he tasted the salt of Ardan’s tears on the tip of his tongue, insisting on the streaks until they were completely dry from the redhead’s hot breath. Just when Alasdair’s mouth trailed downhis lover’s chin to his neck, a soft knock to the door interrupted him.
“Damn!” the young Stark softly cursed, “who’s the one who can’t sleep and decided to wake us up, too? Come in,” he lazily dragged the words.
“It’s me,” Ivar cracked the door, peeking inside. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but Doctor Ross said you are needed at the infirmary,” he looked to Alasdair. “Also, Master mentioned something about a situation,” the kid looked in Ardan’s direction.
“What kind of situation?” the man frowned, his voice a little harsher than he intended, making Ivar flinch. “Sorry, kiddo,”he continued, seeing the teen’s reaction. “Of course Lothier didn’t tell you anything, he probably didn’t want to...never mind.
“It must be something very serious, probably related to the reason why Ross needs me at the infirmary,” Alasdair said, already fully dressed. “I’ll go ahead, see you later,” he hurried up to the door.
“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ardan grabbed him by the hand, gently kissing his lips. “Now, that’s better, you can go,” he lightly shoved the redhead to the door.
Once he got to the infirmary, the young Stark could see that his uncle’s lover had a strong reason for calling him there. On the edge of the examination table, legs hanging, sat a boy no older than twelve, shaking, staring into space, his big, brown eyes expressionless. He was severely malnourished, and the scars littered all over his body told a horrific story of repeated abuse.
“Oh, sweet mother of the Universe!” Alasdair exclaimed, covering his mouth with one hand. “Poor soul, look at him,” he tried to touch the boy, who violently flinched away, starting to emit guttural, wild sounds.
“Yes,” Ross replied, a pained, tired look in his eyes. “Judging by the way he reacts to contact, I’d say this kid was held captive for months, maybe even years. He refuses to speak, and hasn't said a word since the guys brought him here. In fact, it was the other one who brought him, but...”
“The other one?” Alasdair’s voice was a mixture of shock, confusion and surprise. “Where is he now?”
“Ardan and Lothier are interrogating him, and after that, he will also come here to be examined,” Ross answered in a neutral voice, but the redhead could sense he was affected.
“Interrogate him? What for? Do they suspect he was the one who hurt the kid? Why would this other kid do that, and then bring the little one here? Something’s fishy about the whole story.”
“I know, that’s why I talked to my brother earlier, telling him to ask Tarquin to look into the NYPD’s database for missing persons, but he couldn’t find anything on the kid. Anyway, our genius friend came across something very interesting while he was looking for information on the two kids.” It was Ross’turn to look confused.
“What was so interesting?” Alasdair asked, managing to coax the boy and helping him to lay on the examination table.
“As you know, the New York Chief of Police is not a friend of the House, on the contrary, he keeps a lot of things hidden from the special team, like in this case. Apparently, a serial killer is on the loose, taking down respectable members of the community, all men in their forties and fifties, rich and influential.”
“Let me guess: the police are hellbent to catch the killer, but not for putting them behind bars. The victims are probably among the chief’s top supporters, with a lot of dirty, dark secrets that have to stay hidden, so the killer would be silenced forever, once they’ll catch him.”
On the other end of the building complex, Ardan and Lothier were in what the inhabitants of the base referred to as “the interrogation room.” In fact, it was a torture chamber, because those brought there had rarely given information out of their free will, so they were “convinced” to talk.
Ardan sat in his big, comfortable armchair, with Lothier standing next to him, ready to take action in the eventuality of an attack. However,the kid on the other side of the desk, no older than seventeen, seemed pretty cooperative, at least up until that point. He sat in the office chair, in silence, gaze dropped, waiting to be spoken to.
Both men were pleasantly impressed by his totally open, non-defiant attitude. Judging by the boy’s behavior, he must have had some sort of military education, because, in spite of the thick-rimmed glasses and geeky appearance, his physical shape was excellent.
“So, let’s start this,” Ardan finally spoke, after spending some time examining the teenager. “What’s your name and age?”
”Caleb, sir, and I’m seventeen,” the answer came without any hesitation. “Caleb MacNamara,” he added.
“Are you born and raised in the city?” Lothier was the one who asked the next question.
“No, sir, I came here a few months ago, with my father,” the teen answered right away. “We intended to stay, at least father does, and I listen to him.”
“You seem like a good, dutiful son,” Ardan offered him a barely there smile. “What interest does your family have in the city, or have you not been told?”
“Father wants to move the headquarters of his business here, and he is also looking for my older brother. This is all I know, sir, father doesn’t discuss business with me.”
“Tell us about the little boy. How did you come across him? Or were you the one who hurt him?” Lothier asked, his voice harsher than before.
”No, sir, I could never hurt someone, let alone a child so small,” the kid's voice was soft, almost broken. “He was powerless, sir, an animal, a big, strong, wild beast must’ve attacked him.”
“Tell me, Caleb, how did you find the little boy? And why didn’t you call the police, bringing him here instead?” Ardan’s eyes were slightly narrowed, his voice flat.
“Does it matter, sir? He’s safe now, no beast will hurt him ever again,” the kid spoke, his attitude a little defensive, as he stared into the man’s eyes.
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” the man slowly shook his head, smiling weakly. “Have you saved other children from the claws of beasts before? You seem to have experience with these kinds of cases.”
“It happened in the past, sir,” Caleb looked straight into Ardan’s turquoise eyes. “Rabid dogs are everywhere, they harm everyone, but especially children. Someone has to take care of the problem.”
“You are right, kid,” Lothier protectively put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s late, and you must be dead tired, how about laying down for a few hours? We’ll keep your little friend under observation overnight, and you can see him in the morning, before leaving.”
“Leaving? Are you kicking me out?” Caleb whispered, his eyes wide, voice laced with disappointment.
“No one’s kicking you out,” Ardan spoke softly, his turquoise eyes saddened a bit. “You mentioned a missing older brother, and we thought your father must be worried sick. Seeing you are not home tonight. Speaking of, you have to message him, and let him know you are all right, don't you think?”
The teen nodded, pulling out his phone and starting to tap on it. The whole time, he had a concentrated expression on his face, as if composing the message would require a serious intellectual effort. From the corner of his eye, Lothier was examining him, Caleb’s facial expression suddenly very familiar. However, the Base’s chief of security couldn’t remember where or when he saw that face.
“I want to have a word with both of you,” Seymour suddenly stepped into the room, without knocking. He glanced in the kid’s direction, then mouthed, “in private”.
“Did you message your father, Caleb?” Ardan asked him in a quiet voice. Erling will show you to the room where you’ll spend the night. I think the two of you are close in age, so you’ll be in good company. Sleep well,” the man finished, the same weak smile playing on his pale lips.
“Thank you, sirs,” the boy nodded to Lothier and Ardan, casting a sidelong glance in Seymour's direction. Then, he followed Erling, who was waiting at the door.
”Sorry, dude, but before crashing the bed, Alasdair wants to talk to you,” the teen took a detour from where the bedrooms were located. “You can’t say no to Spitfire, his yells will be heard in Paris if you do.”
“I get it, the guy can’t take no for an answer,” Caleb nodded in understanding. “How come he’s so bad? The other two are pretty nice,” he continued.
“Oh, the resident yeller is the bestest friend someone can ask for, I am lucky to call himthat, he put a hell of an effort in saving my life, and Carlin’s.” Erling affectionately smiled.
“I thought you’ll never arrive,” someone grumbled when the infirmary’s door closed behind the two boys. “Hello, I’m Alasdair,” he turned around, offering his hand.
“Caleb,” the teenager took it, gasping in shock, as he didn’t expect the ”resident yeller” to be a kid his age.
“I called you to help us with your little friend’s examination. Erling here wants to become a forensic expert, so he takes every opportunity he gets to practice and hone his skills.”
“Forensics? The poor child, did he die?” Caleb’s eyes widened, tears threatening to spill.”
“No, Ross and I managed to sedate him, because he didn’t let us touch him otherwise. Forensic science is very complex, it doesn’t apply only to dead people, but also to the survivors of brutal attacks. The characteristics of the wounds helps the experts to determine the severity of the aggression, and, based on their testimony, the judge decides the length of the aggressor’s punishment,” Alasdair explained.
“I’ll tell you more later, if you are interested,” Erling’s enthusiasm made Caleb relax and even smile inwardly.
Back in the interrogation room, the atmosphere was tense, the boss and the security chief waiting for Seymour to start talking, since the boys were no longer in sight. His right hand’s hesitation was not a good sign for Ardan who, knowing the man like he did, suspected that the news was not good at all. He let out a sigh of relief when Seymour finally talked.
“We are in the middle of a potentially shitty situation,” he started, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Godfrey MacNamara is back in New York, and it won’t be long until he’ll start stirring trouble.”
“The head of the “Defenders”? I thought he retired ages ago, when his son was...damn, you're right, we are in the deepest possible shit. Fuck!” Lothier cursed, slamming his fist against the table.
“There’s no reason for us to worry, we have good intentions and treated the kid well. Besides, he messaged his father, so I don’t see why...” Ardan started, only to be cut short by Seymour.
“You don’t understand, Caleb’s not a part of this complicated situation, the older son, the missing one, is. MacNamara paid Mister Stark a visit, demanding to be taken to his firstborn, and when the former Supreme Dragon denied even knowing the man in question, he lost it, threatening the House with a long, ugly, bloody war.”
“There’s going to be no war,” Ardan spoke again, his voice flat, cold and determined. I’ll call Mister Stark, tell him not to worry, then I’ll go and talk to Godfrey MacNamara myself.”
“Good luck with that,” Lothier shrugged, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “Daniel has been the Supreme Dragon for the pastfive years, and the bastard just stepped right over him, going straight to the great-uncle. What makes you think he’ll agree to see you?”
“Well, the guy probably hasn’t been in the city in more than five years, and wasn’t informed about the House changing its leader, otherwise he would’ve gone straight to Daniel. I have the feeling the two of us would get along very well,” Ardan spoke in a relaxed, confident voice.
Seymour hesitated for a few seconds, but then he remembered that the man who just finished talking was the same person who sacrificed his physical integrity and mental health to get him and the others out of the living hell they were trapped in. If someone could indeed avoid a senseless war, Ardan was that person.
Seymour took the phone, called Alastair and informed him about the discussions. Hearing about his nephew’s boyfriend’s offer, the former head of the Dragons’ House let out a long sigh of relief, thanking all the deities of the earth, air, water and fire. However, that was only the first step in avoiding the conflict, Ardan had yet to convince Godfrey MacNamara about the House’s good intentions.
An hour later, the young man was waiting outside the Irish mobster's residence, surrounded by guards like he was a wild animal. The boss’ right hand, a guy in his mid-fifties everyone knew only as Connelly, came out of the house, looking at Ardan and gesturing to the entrance.
The young man nodded, climbing the steps of the porch. When he got inside, gaze lowered, MacNamara’s right hand flinched violently, taking a step back, an expression of immense shock and surprise on his face.
“Godfrey,” he burst into the leader’s office, leaving Ardan into the hall, completely confused, “the man coming from the Dragons’ House is waiting for you to see him. I think you have to let him in right away, you’ll see why.”
“Good, let him in,” the boss nodded. “I have news from Caleb, by the way. He’s someplace safe, nicely treated. That kid will put me in the grave soon enough,” the man sighed.
“Naw, Godfrey, you’ll be fine,”Connelly gestured, feigning indifference. “Now get ready for the special guest,” he continued, in a somehow shaky voice.
“Okay, send him in,” the other man said, frowning a little. In the three decades since he was friends with the man, Godfrey didn’t hear him being so insistent about a person. The guy was as neutral as a white wall.
“Good evening, Mister MacNamara, my name’s Ardan and I’m here to negotiate peace, or rather stop the war before starting. I...”
“Look into my eyes when you talk to me, boy!” Godfrey cut him short, but his voice was soft. “Why are you afraid to?”
“Rumors are you don’t like when people look into your eyes,” the young man raised his head. “Besides, you may not like what you see in mine.”
“Ardan is a rare, interesting name,” MacNamara tried to mask the emotion in his voice. “I had a son named that, he was stolen from me twenty-four years ago, when he was only four. A little boy, so sweet and full of life. They killed his mother and snatched him away, and now...”
“I’ll help you find him, I know a lot of people who can help us, but you have to stop the war threats, they won’t do any good, to anyone,” Ardan passionately spoke.
“I agree, no more war,” Godfrey nodded, smiling. “I have no valid reason for it, not anymore,” he said. “I found my son.”
“I’m glad you did, no father deserves to have their son taken away from them, at least not those who care. Your youngest is also safe, he must be sleeping at this time of the night, if the kids don’t talk his ears off. He’s a good kid, you raised him well.”
“Son, come to me, let your old father hug you! Ardan, my firstborn, my pride and joy, the song of my young and untamed heart, come into my arms! Where have you been, precious boy?”
Godfrey left his chair and, unable to keephis emotions under control any longer, took the younger version of himself in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. For a split second, the young man went stiff, the words his father spoke sounding strange, until the dam in his mind broke, the memories of a happy time, a time of innocence, came back to him.
The Gaelic words found their way into Ardan’s soul, the fatherly affection he grew deprived of falling down on him like the rain cooling the thirsty desert. They stayed like that, hugged, father and son, until the first rays of sun appeared, caressing their faces. It was the dawn of a new day, one of peace, love and newfound hope.