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Carter should – all they had were wipes in the SUV he and Casey used to clean him up before he got dressed. It’d be good to shower. To wash away the night. To wash away that entire part of his life.
But he’d wash away Nathan, too.
What if he never gets another chance?
What if Nathan is gone?
“Carter?”
“Please just-” he pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what he wants. His moose. To know his brother is safe. Nathan here with his arms around him.
Nothing this man can give him.
“Please just leave,” he finally says. “I’m sorry, but – please.”
“Of course. I’ll be down the hall in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Carter manages to nod against the pillow, eyes remaining closed.
A moment later, the door to his room clicks shut.
He’s never felt more alone in his life.
Nathan is fucking exhausted by the time he gets to the safehouse. He wasn't able to sleep during transport - first he was busy coordinating with the other vehicles full of survivors, then he was checking in with the teams who handled taking down the regional targets, then he was speaking to the director and assessing the situation moving forward, then he was being forced by Benny to hold the fuck still while Benny treated a stab wound to his side - a guest who hadn't indulged in the champagne had been playing dead, lunging at Nathan when he passed by with a can of gasoline to douse all the bodies and stabbing him with a piece of glass - then he was making sure the media coverage of the fire was unfolding how they all wanted it to, then he was making sure the rumor that he and Benny died as victims of Maison's team was making its way through the right social circles so no revenge plots were cooked up, then Benny was telling him to hold the fuck still because he wanted to dress his wound with gauze.
By the time they reach the safehouse, Nathan –Travis, he has to start letting himself beTravisagain – is dead on his fucking feet.
Ace is waiting for them with a bottle of scotch, a tray of glasses, and a look of concern flicked in the direction of the hallway Nathan- Travis -knows Carter's assigned room is in.
“What?” Travis asks, not taking a glass like the others. “Is Carter okay?”
“He’s safe, but he won’t let the medic look at him and he won’t do anything or even get out of bed. He should really at least have some water or something.”
Maison sighs heavily. "I'll go talk to him."
“He won’t let you,” Benny –Jake- says with a huffed laugh. “Don’t waste your time. He’ll want Travis.”
It feels strange to hear his name out loud after so long. He doesn'tfeellike Travis. He doesn't feel like Nathan either, though.
But he does feel like Carter’s sir…
“I’ll go,” he says without meeting anyone’s gaze. “If you guys can handle the arrival of the survivors, that is?”
There’s a longer pause before Maison says, “Sure. Of course.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” Ace adds.
He won’t. All he needs is Carter.
The boy is lying on the bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, the soft morning light filtering in through the crack in the blackout curtains.
He shifts when he hears Travis open the door, breath hitching. “Nathan? Is that you?”
No idea. I’m trying to be Travis, but it’s harder than I thought it’d be…“It’s me. Mind if I shut the door?”
Instead of giving an answer, the boy launches himself off the bed and at Travis’s body. Travis nearly drops him as Carter’s knee hits the stab wound on his side, but he manages to stumble to the edge of the bed and sit down with the boy still securely in his arms. He chuckles breathlessly. “Hey there.”
“I thought you died!” Carter whispers. His arms squeeze the shit out of Travis. Harder than he ever thought the boy could possibly squeeze. “God, I thought you died. You fucking asshole…”
