CHAPTER TWENTY #3
As the helicopter lifts off, the blades kick up a beautiful storm of vicious wind and then, thankfully, they’re gone.
Mimi breathes a happy sigh of relief. ‘Finally.’
‘So, what shall we do this evening?’ Blaire asks Jules.
‘Cake maybe?’ he suggests, smiling at Mimi.
‘Cake, yes!’ she agrees, arms open when he comes to take her from Lachlan’s hip and Lachlan is happy to see her go to Jules with such enthusiasm. The breach between them is healing. ‘And games too?’
‘What games?’ he asks, the pair walking inside while Lachlan hangs back, needs a moment to catch his breath.
‘Hide and seek?’
‘My favourite. Come on, then. Vasily, you can start us off.’
‘Get your ass to medical,’ Blaire intones under cover of a smile, when the kids are far enough away not to hear it. ‘Now.’
‘I will,’ Lachlan assures her even though he won’t for reasons he can’t even begin to analyse. He goes to the Control Room instead to start vetting.
?
Of the small team Sorrenko recommends, all five appear solid, but three stand out immediately to Lachlan.
He’s experienced enough not to keep them grouped together, though.
Better to fracture the existing dynamic early so they’re forced to adapt to a new operational structure instead of clinging to old loyalties.
Just as Sorrenko had said, one profile in particular reads exceptional to Lachlan.
Danya Yashin’s background bears some resemblance to Lachlan’s own. Flagged young, accelerated hard, operational by twenty, burned through three years of off script work. The difference is that Yashin was sold into the private sector afterwards, while Lachlan was officially discharged.
Though if Lachlan is being honest with himself, the distinction feels increasingly cosmetic. One way or another, they both ended up belonging to powerful men. Lachlan just happened to sign his own contract.
He makes his decision, informs Sorrenko he wants three of the five, and later, once the sun has set on Jules’ nineteenth birthday, he follows the sound of life deeper into the Estate.
Half eaten cake, orange juice and a movie playing on the TV in the den.
Jules is half watching, half on his newly returned tablet.
Vasily is reading a book, curled up like a cat. Mimi is snuggled in Blaire’s arms.
For a while, Lachlan just watches them, lets it stir warmth where he needs it most and then, as if sensing his presence, Mimi looks over at him and beams. ‘Daddy!’
She runs at him and he bends to catch her, hides the grimace. ‘There’s my princess. Are you enjoying the movie?’
‘Yes, it’s much better than the Blue Bird,’ Mimi whispers loudly to spare Blaire’s feelings. ‘There’s witches! You watch with me and Bee?’
‘I’d love to.’
Blaire shoots him a look, one brow slightly raised in question. Lachlan nods back, flicks her a quick wink, then settles carefully onto the couch with Mimi tucked between them. They sit together watching the movie.
Every so often Lachlan catches Jules looking at him instead of the screen, clearly irritated about something, though that hardly narrows it down.
Their brief stretch of civility was never going to last.
After the movie, Lachlan goes back on duty performing checks around the entirety of the East Wing. He makes it back just before Mimi’s bedtime to give her a kiss and say goodnight.
‘Goodnight, Kestrel,’ she whispers when he hugs her.
‘Goodnight, my little Myna bird. Sleep well.’
Lachlan still has the North, West and South Wings to make his rounds through, but before he begins, he goes to Jules’ room and finds him alone when granted entry after knocking.
Jules is in pyjamas, reading a book.
Picture-perfect good behaviour.
‘What do you want?’
Lingering in the doorway, Lachlan says, ‘Checking in. How do you feel?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘It’s Saturday, y’know.’
Jules shoots him a withering look. ‘I did notice, yeah.’
Lachlan nods at the window. ‘Go on. I’ll give you a four-hour head start.’
‘What?’
‘You heard,’ Lachlan simply says, smug. ‘Four hours. I’ll find you. Have fun.’
He leaves Jules looking thunderstruck and closes the door behind him.
The happy feeling dissolves instantly when he puts a hand to his side, body reeling with fleshy horror to be reminded of the reality waiting beneath gauze and bandages.
Lachlan exhales slowly. He should go to a medic because he has three stab wounds in his body, but it’s not urgent and he’d much prefer they started to heal on their own.
He needs it, in fact.
Lachlan goes about his rounds.
Jules’ threads don’t so much as lose heart-rate tracking for a second.
He’s so fucking clever, that boy.
If only Lachlan could bottle it.
During the four hours Jules sneaks away without detection, Lachlan feels ridiculously calm, even when he throws up. He takes a shower, organises his clothes for the week ahead and then, in the privacy of his own bathroom, properly assesses the damage before applying fresh gauze and taping it tight.
Then dresses again in a clean suit and ties his hair up.
He’s going to let it grow out, wonders what that’ll look like.
Another six painkillers and he’s good to go.