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Carter looks at him then, just enough of a turn of his body to meet his gaze. “I haven’t forgiven either of you. And I’m starting to think maybe I never will.”
Travis is just starting to wake up when the bedroom door opens and slams shut. He sits up with a jolt, hand automatically reaching for his gun. His fingertips skate across the cool metal just as he registers who is standing there angrily glaring at him in the moonlight.
“Fucking hell, Carter.” Travis laughs shakily, pulling his hand away from his weapon. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Did you wait to tell me the truth after Maison gave you the go ahead?”
A sharp spike of panic twists in Travis’s chest, but he won’t lie. Not to Carter. Not ever again. “Yes.”
He watches as an array of emotions make their way across Carter’s face before it settles with the worst of all - heartbreak. “Why? Why would you do that to me? Why would you make me live in that mindset for days?”
“You loved me." Travis's throat feels like it might close, his strangled voice reflecting it. "I knew once I told you the truth, I'd lose that. Lose you."
"So, you were okay with me being suicidal, as long as I still loved you?"
"No. If that was the case, I wouldn't have called Maison and demanded we tell you the truth. I would have kept the secret as long as I could." Travis pushes off the bed, ignoring the pain that lances through his side. He takes a step before stopping when he sees Carter take a stumbling step away from him. His body goes cold. "It was selfish. Me waiting to tell you was incredibly, disgustingly selfish. But last night, you needed to be with me one last time. We needed to be with each other. I waited to tell you the truth because I needed to give myself my own one last time. I wanted to soak it up. Your love. Your trust. Your pleasure. The feel of you in my arms. All of it, Carter. I needed all of it one last time before I could let myself ruin it all."
Carter wipes at his cheeks with a shaking hand. He laughs breathlessly, but there's no humor in the sound. "Then I guess that's it, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"You got your one last time back then, and I got mine last night." Carter sinks back against the wall, almost like it's the only way he can stay standing. "We're done now. Right?"
Travis curls his hands into fists at his sides to keep from snatching Carter up and desperately clinging to him. "That's up to you, Carter. It'll always be up to you."
"Yeah. Okay." Carter drags a bare toe along the floor, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. "Well, it's still nighttime. Or, it’s nighttime again. Are you… tired?"
"I-" Travis pauses. He's starving. And thirsty. And could use some pain medicine. But if Carter is going where he thinks he's going, he can be tired. He can be very tired. "I'm exhausted, yeah."
Relief blooms on Carter's face. His lips even twitch toward a possible smile. "Maybe we pretend we didn't wake up."
"And then our one last time isn't done yet," Travis says carefully, hoping he's understanding correctly.
"I'm pretty great at pretending."
Travis smiles sadly. "Yes, you are."
"You're not too bad yourself."
"I suppose not."
Carter eyes the bed, seeming to consider it. Then he nods once and steps away from the wall. He walks forward as he says, "Then I'm going to get in bed. Because I never left. And you can do whatever you need to do, pee or eat or whatever, and then you can get back in bed. Because you never left."
"And we'll be together one last time," Travis finishes.
Carter nods. "One last time."
The other side of the bed is empty when Travis wakes up for the second time. He takes a deep breath, not letting himself dwell on the statement one last time. After using the bathroom, swishing some mouthwash, and getting dressed in his wrinkled clothes from the previous night, he heads to the kitchen to see if he can scrounge up some food. And maybe find Carter, though he won’t admit to that.
Benny - Jake, Travis reminds himself, and fuck that’s going to take some getting used to - is standing in the kitchen with their tech guy, Ace. He’s stuffing his mouth with an obscene amount of pancakes while Ace sips coffee and scrolls through something on a tablet.
“Well, good morning sleepyhead,” Jake drawls.
“Yeah, yeah.” Travis heads straight for the coffee pot, trying to ignore how strange it feels to pour his own coffee. He focuses on what’s important – the survivors and the biggest piece of shit to slip through their fingers. “How are things going? Any news on Mica?”
“He’s in the wind, but we’ll find the bastard.”
Travis hisses as hot coffee splashes over his hand. He angrily mops up the liquid with a dish towel and asks, “And the survivors?”
