After the doctor left, Hudson sat very still for a long time.
“Elliot,” he whispered. “I want you to know that whatever happens—however you come back—I’m not going anywhere.” Tears pricked behind his eyelids. “But I also need you to come back as yourself because I have a lot of plans for us and I’d really like to argue with you about them.”
He studied Elliot’s face, looking for some sort of sign that he was still in there. That he’d heard him. An eyetwitch, maybe? Or a little tug on the corner of his mouth? The almost smile Hudson loved.
Nothing.
Hudson pushed to his feet. “God, you’re a stubborn ass.”
Just when he was about to say he didn’t mean it, the door opened.
In strode General Shaw. Back straight. Head held high. His footsteps were deliberate, each one placed with precision, but when his eyes landed on Elliot, his steps faltered.
He came to a stop in the middle of the room.
This was the first time Hudson had seen General Shaw in person. He was in full dress uniform. Tall, silver streaks in his dark hair, with a face that had Elliot’s structure and none of his warmth. Same set features but something fundamental missing. Like a house with all the right rooms but no light in any of them.
Even though it felt like betrayal, Hudson saluted him. “General.”
The General turned to face him, acknowledging the salute.
Hudson dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into hard fists.
This was going to take all he had left in him.
“How long?” The General asked, his gaze locked on Elliot.
Hudson watched his face, looking for anything underneath all the architecture. A flicker crossed his features. Kind of. Hudson wasn’t sure. It could be wishful thinking. Hoping that Elliot’s father actually cared.
“Six days unconscious.” Hudson said. “The swelling is reducing. They say to give it time.”
The General nodded once and moved to the side of the bed—the opposite side from Hudson—and took in thesight of his son. He reached his right hand toward Elliot, but seemed to change his mind, withdrawing it immediately.
Without looking at Hudson he said, “Who authorized your presence here?”
“Major Okafor, sir. He made the necessary arrangements.”
The General focused all his attention on the crumpled linen on the bed, straightening it with an unexpected tenderness and care. “And your connection to Captain Shaw?”
Hudson kept his voice neutral. “We served together, sir. Selection, six years ago. And now in Syria. We’ve stayed close.”
The General finally raised his eyes and assessed him with a measured stare that made Hudson feel unbelievably small. “Close,” he repeated.
“Yes, sir.” Hudson cleared his throat. “He’s a good officer. The best I’ve ever worked with.”
That earned him a nod. “I’ll make sure you’re returned to your deployment.” It barely even had the courtesy of being a suggestion. “My assistant will arrange for your family to be notified.”
“Respectfully, sir—I’d like to stay.”
“There is no need. I’ll take it from here.” He walked toward the door.
“Sir,” Hudson said.
The General stopped. Slowly, he turned to face him.
Hudson crossed to the bed and reached for Elliot’s hand. His fingers threaded through Elliot’s, thumb caressing his cool skin. He locked his eyes on The General. “I’m staying.”
The General’s eyes went to their joined hands. ToElliot. He seemed stricken. Like he just realized what he’d lost. “I see,” he said.
