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Jim was hovering again. He didn’t mean to do it, Pete knew that, but he kept edging closer and closer, practically tapping his foot with impatience.
“Mac wants to see us,” Jim said.
“I know.” Ten years into the job and Pete didn’t bother to get his heart rate up every time Mac wanted to see them, but Jim was still new and he had that nervous crease between his brows. Pete took his time tucking in his shirt, making sure his tie was fixed right.
“Pete, Mac wants to see us. Now.”
“Jim, can you let a fella get his pants on before running off to see the Sarge?” He made sure to brush his fingers through his hair, just to hear Jim’s annoyed huff. “You gotta calm down, junior.”
“I am calm. I’m just saying, Mac wants to see us.”
Pete finally took mercy on him and lead them out of the locker room and into Mac’s office.
“Mac, kid’s gonna jump out of his skin. What’d you want to see us about?”
Mac thumped a few sheets of paper up and down on his desk, playing up the stern routine. Jim hadn’t yet picked up on Mac’s little tells but Pete could tell whatever he was about to say wasn’t bad news. Mac had a tendency to curl his lip or stare at his pens if he was really going to chew you out. Right now, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his barrel chest, enjoying Jim’s anxiety. Pete had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.
“Something wrong, Sarge?” Jim said.
He held Jim’s gaze for a second, before dropping the act. “Well, it’s good news and bad news.” He slid two letters across his desk, one with Jim’s name on it and one with Pete’s. “The good news. Every year LAPD SWAT picks candidates for their Intensive Tactical Training course. It’s 5 days and held out at their complex way outside Malibu. Congratulations, you two got invitations this year.”
Jim’s face burst open into a grin so wide that Pete found it physically painful to look at.
“I’m guessing the bad news is you’re going to be down two officers for a week,” Pete said, picking up his letter.
“That’s about it. Two less men patrolling the streets.”
“Well, there is one more bit of bad news,” Pete said, eyeing Jim. “Looks like I gotta share a room with this guy for a week.”
Mac laughed. “Close quarters. You’ll either come out better partners or hating each other.”
“My money’s on the later,” Pete said, thumping Jim on the shoulder. “Come on partner, we’re on duty in five.” He winked at Mac. “Always dawdling, this one. Can’t get him anywhere on time.”
***
For the next three weeks, SWAT training was all Jim wanted to talk about. In the car, at dinner, while they were at the gym. What should I bring? Should I start training now? What do you think they’ll have us do? What if I can’t cut it during the program? It went on until Pete finally snapped.
“Jim, I’m warning you. One more word about SWAT training and the minute we’re back at the station, I’m asking Mac for a new partner. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
Jim didn’t look phased by the threat but he did shut up for about five minutes before opening his mouth again. “You know, one thing I can’t figure about you Pete. You’re cool about everything. Nothing ever seems to get you riled up. I mean, sure I’ve seen you get hot with a suspect or something, but things just don’t get under your skin.”
“Things get under my skin, JIm. I just don’t need to work it out by talking all time like you do. I don’t know what good yapping about something is gonna do.”
Jim was quiet again for another few minutes and Pete thought maybe it was going to stick, until he turned in his seat. “We won’t need our uniforms so I’m thinking I’ll bring some jeans, sweatshirts and sweatpants. You’ve done the training before, what do you think? What are you packing, Pete?”
Pete groaned and for a second thought seriously about asking Mac for a new rookie. One less eager, one less sincere and one hell of a lot less talkative.
***
The cabin they got was no frills but nicer than the barracks Pete had stayed in last time he did the course. They had a small bathroom attached in the back and two decent sized beds pushed against the far wall. There was no TV but they had a little radio set up on the nightstand. The one window looked out onto the dry brush of the desert hills, where the sun was just getting high.
“You don’t snore, do you?” Pete asked, dumping the contents of his bag into a drawer.
“Like a buzz saw if you ask Jean. Just tell me to flip over.”
“Jean gonna mange ok on her own without you?”
“She’ll be alright. Her mom arrived an hour after we left,” Jim said. “Tell you the truth, I think she was a little too excited to have me out of the house.”
“Can you blame her? This way she only has one baby to clean up after.”
Jim threw a towel at his head, but missed.
“Come on,” Pete said. “Let’s get to roll call. You’ve been crowing about this forever. Don’t want to be late, do you.”
They walked down the well worn path from the bunk houses to the main training center. It was a large, low building that looked like a big, high school gym. Cops from all over LA had gathered for the training, and there were more than a few familiar faces in the crowd. Pete said his hellos at a distance, till there was a sturdy clap on his back and booming voice in his ear.
“Malloy!”
Pete turned, recognizing the voice just by decibel level. “Booker, good to see you.” Pete shook his hand and introduced him to Jim. “Booker and I worked out of the same precinct for a few years, before he moved north.”
“You Pete’s new rookie?” Booker said, eyeing Jim up and down.
“Yes, sir,” Jim said.
“Couldn’t be in better hands.” Everything Booker said sounded like it was coming through one of those police megaphones. It carried even if he was trying to stay quiet. “Malloy’s the best of them. Nothing gets to this guy. I’ve never seen him loose his cool or make a wrong move out in the field. Man, it all slides off of him like water off a duck’s back.” He slapped Pete on the back again, hard enough to sting. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s all heart but he’s got it all under control, don’t you Pete?”
Jim grinned again, enjoying Pete’s discomfort. “Yeah Pete, what’s your secret?”
“There’s no secret, Jim. You forget things as soon as they happen and the rest takes care of itself.”
Brooks laughed again, like Pete had dropped a world famous punch line. Before he could say anything else, a whistle blew and it was time to get to work.
***
Tactical training wasn’t so much training as it was torture. Pete tended to forget little things like running 5 miles in the heat, scaling brick walls and doing belly crawls in full gear through a foot of mud. They got worked hard that first day and Pete barely made it through dinner and a shower before collapsing in bed. Jim, of course, seemed to be holding up fine. He stepped out of the shower and puttered around the room refolding already folded t-shirts and hanging up towels. He’d switched the radio on and was humming along tunelessly to some big band jazz. “Jim, you gonna pace all night or get some sleep.”
“You want the window open?” Jim asked. He pushed up the pane, letting in a welcome waft of night air. “I must’ve met 10 different guys today that know you Pete. Heard a lot of different stories too.”
Pete grunted into the pillow. “Not a lot worth knowing, Jim. You’ve been on the job a year and you’ve got a handful of stories yourself.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same,”Jim said. From across the room he heard Jim rummage around in the closet, looking for god only knows what. By now, Pete’s eyes were only half open. “The funny thing is these guys just say things like, ‘ask Pete about the La Grunta Kidnapping’ or ‘have Pete tell you about those three fires in one day.’
Only a small bedside lamp was burning, and the atmosphere was dragging Pete under quick. He let Jim chatter, the sound and timber of his voice lulling Pete to sleep. He had almost dropped off when something heavy settled over his legs. He opened one eye. “Jim, what the hell are you doing?” Jim was bent over, arranging a blanket over him. The kid didn’t even have the sense to look embarrassed.
“It’s just an extra blanket, Pete. I don’t want you to get cold.”
“I’m not cold, Jim.”
“But you might get cold. Later tonight.”
“Jim.”
“Am I bothering you?” Jim was serious. His voice took on that wounded edge that Pete knew so well and he let out a big, end of the day sigh and rolled right back over. It was dark, he was tired, and there was no arguing with Jim. He sighed again and rolled over and let Jim pull the covers up around his chest.
***
That extra blanket was twisted around his legs when he woke up. His shirt was rucked up around his chest and Pete felt like he’d slept harder than the dead. The open window was now shut and the room smelled of hot water and spring soap from Jim’s shower. The clock said 7:15 and beside it was a little note in Jim’s scrawl.
Went to get breakfast. Thought I’d let you sleep.
Pete frowned at it, wondered how he’d missed a big body like Jim’s lumbering around the room, and hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He was at the mess hall about 20 minutes later, hair still damp, where Jim waved him over.
“Hey, partner.” Pete slid into the chair across from him with his tray. Jim stopped eating, and a tell tale frown crossed his brow. His eyes scanned Pete’s face in a way that made him uneasy. “Everything alright, Jim?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. You sleep ok?” He stared at Pete hard, like he was very interested in the answer.
“Slept just fine, Jim. Why? Did I snore or something?”
The thing about Jim was that whatever he was feeling always showed up on that face of his, whether it was in his eyes or the twist of his mouth or the way he flexed his jaw. He paused for so long Pete had to ask him again. “Jim, was I snoring? Is that why you bolted out of the room this morning?”
Whatever Jim was going to say, he apparently decided against it. “No, no you didn’t snore. I just thought I’d get dibs on the shower.”
“Well, thanks for leaving me a little hot water.” Pete went back to his eggs and toast, eating quickly, but felt Jim still eyeing him.
“Pete, are you sure you slept alright?” Jim asked.
“Jim, do I look that tired? I’m not a vain guy but if you keep asking me, I’m gonna start to take it personal.”
Instead of backing off, Jim just chewed his lip, a sign of sure distress. Before Pete could push him, Booker and some other guys wandered over and after that, the day got busy.
They did training drills, shooting drills, accuracy drills, all kinds of drills till Pete’s mind was wiped clean of anything but exhaustion. By the end of the dinner he was ready to hit the sack, but Jim dragged him to the rec hall where guys were playing ping pong or pool or just swapping war stories. Pete had enough of his own stories lined up but he didn’t like taking the bait like this. There was nothing amusing about going over who’d been shot and who’d had a narrow miss and who had come this close to ending up with a Purple Heart.
“Come on Malloy, I know you got some doozies you’re keeping to yourself,” Booker said, leaning over with his pool cue and lining up a shot. He turned to Jim. “Reed, don’t buy the quiet act for a minute. He’s one of the best cops around but good luck getting a word out of him.”
Jim gave him a half smile. “Oh, I figured out early Malloy’s not a talker. I think he’d go an entire shift not saying anything if I let him.”
“Stoic as they come, I guess,” Booker said, sinking a ball in the corner pocket. “You’ve seen some stuff in your time, haven’t you, Malloy?”
Pete nodded, bending over to line up his own shot. “I’ve seen about as much as you have, maybe a little more.” Pete wasn’t the kind to romanticize the shootouts and the car chases and the drug busts. What he remembered most were the gruesome wrecks, the DBs, the kids that got beat so bad their faces were unrecognizable. He stayed away from thinking about that stuff though because that road just never lead anywhere good.
“No one wants to hear an old man tell tall tales Booker,” Pete said, his shot rolling nicely into a side pocket. “Jim’s gonna see all that and much more. He doesn’t want to hear it.”
Jim didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until they were walking back to their room that he touched Pete’s elbow, just lightly. “I’d like to hear about it Pete, if you wanted to talk about it.” Jim said it quietly, in the achingly sincere way he had.
“Not worth sharing, partner,” Pete said. “That stuff’ll only keep you up at night.”
In the room he showered and then flopped onto the bed in just his towel, too tired to care much about his state of undress. He and Jim had seen each other in much less and in much worse. From the bed, he watched Jim walk around the room, lazily undressing for his turn in the bathroom. It was like a slow strip tease, Jim taking off items of clothing one by one, till he was down to his undershirt and skivvies. Pete didn’t bother to turn away, because, hell, there was no where else to really look. He just let his eyes follow Jim as he went about moving things from one side of the room to the other.
“You like things tidy, don’t you?” Pete said.
“I don’t like tripping over your shoes, if that’s what you mean,” Jim said, moving said shoes into a corner by the door. That done, he stripped off his undershirt and stared at Pete for a long second.
“Pete—”
“Hm?” Jim was nervously balling the t-shirt up in his hands, not even remotely concerned he was bare chested and in his boxers, practically naked. “Something on your mind, Jim?”
His mouth worked in the odd way it did. “Do you mind if I turn the radio on.”
Pete got up and flipped on the set for him, settling on a bluesy revival station. “That’s it Jim? That’s what you wanted to say?”
Jim only sighed and walked into the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door all the way. Through the gap, Pete watched him step out of his shorts and under the spray. He wondered idly if this is what is was like being married. Just walking around at the end of the day, in various states of undress, waiting for the other person to say whatever was on their mind. It sounded dull on paper, but Pete suddenly thought maybe he wouldn’t mind it so much.
By the time Jim got out of the bathroom, Pete was under the covers, eyes closed, but not asleep. “Don’t try to tuck me in again tonight, Reed,” Pete said. “I’m starting to feel like a kid.”
Jim switched off the radio but Pete didn’t hear him pull back the covers or the shifting of squeaky springs that meant he was in bed. He opened one eye, only to see Jim sitting nervously on the edge of the bed, staring at Pete.
He rolled onto his side, so Jim could look at him directly. “Out with it, Jim,” he said not unkindly. “You’ve been chewing on something all day. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. I guess I’m not used to sleeping in a room with you is all.” Jim slept in an undershirt and boxers, just like Pete, but he filled them out better than Pete did. His shorts were way up his thighs, and his undershirt fit snug around his chest. He turned out the lights and pushed back the covers and folded his long body under the sheets, curling toward Pete. The beds were barely two feet apart, and Pete felt an urge to run a hand over Jim’s hair, to smooth that crease between his brow.
***
When Pete woke up, he was way over on the other side of the bed, his leg dangling off the edge. More interestingly, there was a heavy arm across his chest. He shifted his head, and saw Jim face down on the mattress next to him. His eyes fluttered open as if he sensed Pete was awake.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning, Jim.”
Jim didn’t move. Not his arm from across Pete’s chest, not his leg which was grazing’s Pete’s.
“Jim?”
Jim grunted into the mattress.
“You want to tell me what’s going on here?”
Jim shifted around under the covers, stretching his long body with a morning yawn. He got up on his elbows and looked around the room. His hair was sticking up in the back. “Ok, but let me shower first.” Jim threw off the covers and padded into the bathroom, stripping his shirt off along the way. Pete waited till he heard the shower running and Jim step under the spray before getting out of bed himself. He was surprised at how unsurprised he was, at finding Jim in bed with him. It wasn’t panic or annoyance as much as curiosity.
“Jim,” he knocked on the bathroom door before opening it a crack. “Gotta hit the head, pal.”
“Go ahead,” Jim said from behind the curtain.
Pete emptied his bladder, brushed his teeth and was in the middle of shaving when Jim fumbled his hand out and grabbed a towel. He stepped out from behind the curtain a minute later, towel wrapped around his waist and held up by not much more than a prayer. Pete dragged his razor across his jaw and met Jim’s eyes in the mirror. “Something happen last night, Jim?”
Jim looked up him and down again, like Pete was the one who was half naked. “How do you feel, Pete? You sleep alright?”
“I think I slept fine, but you asking that question is making me wonder.” Pete wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face. “Did you sleep alright?”
Jim nodded, and glanced through the partially open door at their beds. Pete’s bed, rumpled, with pillows askew, and Jim’s like it had barely been slept in.
“So, what happened?”
Jim sighed and apparently decide he needed pants before having this conversation. “I’m gonna get dressed. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
***
Jim was waiting for him in the mess hall, his tall frame easy to pick out of a crowd. Pete made himself get a tray of food and walk at a normal pace to the table. He ate a few bites before talking. “Out with it, Jim.”
“Who’s Daniel?” Jim asked.
The question made Pete put down his fork. “My old partner.”
“The one who got shot?”
“The one who got shot and died, yes.”
“It’s just, you never talk about him. Or anything else you’ve seen on the job.”
“Why do you wanna hear about that stuff, Jim? Are the guys here filling your head with nonsense? Nothing good comes from swapping war stories, Jim.”
“No, it’s not that.” Jim started chewing his lower lip again. “I just think talking’s good sometimes.” Jim had that deep, low sincerity in his voice. The kind Pete was powerless against.
“What’ve you been meaning to say to me, Jim?”
Jim looked around the room, at the rough crowd of men all talking and laughing around them. He looked sheepishly back down at his plate, before meeting Pete’s eyes. “You’re having bad dreams, Pete. Real bad ones.”
Pete couldn’t hide his flinch of surprise. “I’m what?”
“Not the kind where you’re screaming or shouting, but…they’re bad. I can tell. The first night, I thought maybe you were sick or something, but then I could see it was a nightmare. You wake up sometimes, but I can’t tell if you’re really seeing me or not. You look—” Jim cut himself off. “I can tell you’re scared.”
“Oh.”
He kept his gaze on Pete, his eyes alarmingly sympathetic. “You have bad dreams a lot, Pete?”
Pete shook his head. “I can’t say I do. At least, not that any of the girls have mentioned to me.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“No, not really. Though, I guess now that you mention it, I feel wrung out, like someone twisted me up. You’re saying it happened last night and the night before?”
Jim nodded.
The thing was Pete hardly ever remembered his dreams. “Well, I guess I’m sorry, Jim. Am I keeping you up?” Jim shook his head, but Pete could tell there was something else. “What is it, Jim?”
His face picked up color, starting at the base of his neck and moving up his cheeks. “You make these horrible sounds, like you’re crying, but not really. You’re shaking so bad. It helps—” he stopped, glancing around the room again, and dropping his voice slightly lower. “It helps if I get into bed with you. You fall back asleep quicker that way.”
“Oh. Well.” He felt the hot, burning sting of embarrassment across his fae. “Thanks for that.”
“I’m sorry Pete,” Jim said. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, but I couldn’t stand it, to see you like that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate it, I do. Even though I can’t remember it.”
Jim searched his face. Pete could tell he wanted to keep talking about it, but this was more information that Pete was prepared to deal with, especially so early and with so many people around. Guys were bussing their trays and getting ready to jog out to the yard for their daily run and Pete let the flow of the crowd propel them out the door. His body was moving but his mind was stuck on what Jim said, on how they’d woken up this morning and what he may have said in his sleep. He wasn’t prideful, but there was a sting that came with being so open, so vulnerable, even if it was in front of Jim. Jim wasn’t the kind that liked to leave problems unsolved and he hoovered over Pete all day; trailing him during their run, casting too many sideways glances as they went through their shooting drills.
“Jim, do you think you I’m gonna fall apart or something?” Pete finally snapped as Jim practically stood on top of him as they waited for lunch. This time at least, Jim had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Not my much, mind you.
He stepped back maybe an inch or two and in a burst of temper, Pete flagged down Booker. A devious little plan was starting to form in his head.
“Booker, I’m sending the rookie along with you today. Take him off my hands will you?”
Booker let out his booming laugh. “Kid can’t hack it, huh?”
“No, he can hack it. But you know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Let him join you guys today, yeah?”
Pete didn’t dare look at Jim because he knew the expression he’d see across his face, like a puppy who’d been kicked. Had it been anyone else, they would’ve let Pete ride out his nightmares alone and not said a single damn word about it the next morning. But this was Jim though and that boy just worked differently.
“Don’t start working those eyes on me, Jim,” Pete said. “You concentrate on training today, not me. I’ll be alright. I am alright. What you’re learning here is going to save your life some day out in the field. I don’t want you missing any of it because you keep looking over to see how I’m doing. Got it, partner?”
Jim didn’t like it, but he nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Like a true heel and with more than a little guilt, Pete skipped dinner. He hightailed it back to their room after their last drill and pulled out his duffle bag. He was quick, but not quick enough.
Only half his clothes were stuffed into his bag when Jim barged through the door.
“What are you doing?” He was sweaty and dirt-streaked from the day, and he must’ve rabbited out of the mess once he saw Pete wasn’t there.
Pete took some socks and shoved them into a side pocket of his bag. “I’m grateful Jim, I really am, but none of this is fair to you. I’ll talk to the sargent about getting another room. That way you can get some —”
Jim yanked the bag out of Pete’s hand. “No, that’s not what I...No.”
“I’m not sore at you, Jim. I swear I’m not. I appreciate it. But if I’m keeping you up all night—”
“You’re not keeping me up. You’re not.” Jim tossed the bag on the floor and used the full advantage of his height to crowd Pete against the door. “Pete, please. Just talk to me.”
Pete put a light hand against his chest. “Jim, I can’t talk about what I don’t remember.”
“You mumbled the name Daniel a few times, but otherwise, you just twisted in your sleep, making noises. I can’t stand to hear it, Pete.” He put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Maybe it’ll help, if you tell me about him?”
For a second, Pete was tempted to spill every memory and feeling he had, but he buttoned it right back up again. “Not today, partner.” Probably not ever, if it came down to it. He moved to get his bag but Jim held onto his arm. “No. I won’t, I won’t get into bed or anything with you again. I promise. I’m sorry I did that, but if you’re thinking of leaving because of that—”
Pete sighed. “It’s not that, Jim. I don’t mind that.” If it had been anyone else Pete would’ve run out of the room and probably quit the force all together, but it was Jim and for some reason everything was different with Jim. It wasn’t just that he was the godfather to Jim’s kid or that he had dinner with him more nights than he didn’t. Something settled inside of him when Jim was around. Even now, with his pride wounded and dignity hanging by a thread, he was secretly glad Jim had stopped him from leaving. He didn’t want to be where with Jim wasn’t. He shook off Jim’s arm but began putting the clothes back in the dresser. “You wake me up if it happens again tonight, ok? No matter how hard you gotta shake me.”
Jim nodded, and looked more than a little relieved.
“Go on back to dinner,” Pete said. “I promise I won’t bolt.”
Jim didn’t move of course, not till Pete went with him to the mess hall and filled two plates with whatever slop they were serving today. When they sat to eat Jim kept his eyes down. There was no rambling chatter about the day, or running commentary on the state of the food, or about who had been best at what drill. His broad shoulders slumped and he picked listlessly at his food.
“I’m sorry Jim,” he said quietly. Pete saw that he’d hurt him, really hurt him, by pushing him away all day. Jim’s heart was too young and too raw and Pete had chewed it up like raw meat. “I just don't want you worrying about me.”
Jim looked up from his plate, his big doe eyes wide with concern. “I’m just trying to help, Pete.”
“I know. I know you are. I’m sorry, Jim. Hell, I wish I could take it back.”
“Don’t do it again,” Jim said. “Please.”
For most of his life, Pete had never bothered to get close enough to anyone for it to matter whether or not he hurt them. He wasn’t a cad, but he never went out with a girl more than a few times and never gave them a reason to look at him like this. It twisted something inside him, seeing Jim hurt. “I won’t, Jim. Promise.” He sighed and pushed back his tray and suddenly couldn’t wait to be back in their room. The mess hall felt loud and chaotic with people shouting jokes and banging trays and he felt the most peculiar longing. Like being homesick, but for something that was just out of reach. He wanted to be back in their room, with the radio playing low and the window open, watching Jim puttering around hanging up towels and putting away shoes.
Jim must’ve felt it too, because he picked up his tray. “Let’s go Pete.”
They waived off invitations to play ping pong or pool and Pete exhaled once their bedroom door was shut behind him. He flicked on the radio and Jim slid open the window and they moved around each other again getting ready for bed. His eyes trailed Jim all around the room but this time it felt greedy. He watched with purpose, cataloging every more till Jim finally settled under the covers. He turned over, arm under his pillow and faced Pete.
“I’ll wake you, if anything happens.”
“Ok, Jim.”
“Pete.”
“Yeah.”
“What was he like? Daniel?”
Truth was Pete barely had time to get to know the kid. He was young, bright, quiet. Pete could tell he was gonna be a good cop but he didn’t know the things about him that he knew about Jim. And not just the facts about his life, but the little things, like how Jim took his coffee or had the worst sense of humor or talked and talked and talked till Pete had to tell him to clam up. “He was a good kid. The kind you see every day.”
Jim propped himself up slightly on his elbow and switched off the light. He leaned over and brushed a hand through Pete’s hair.
“Jim.”
But he kept it there, stroking lightly till Pete couldn’t help but close his eyes.
***
This time he did wake up, with a start and something like a scream trapped in his throat. When he opened his eyes, Jim’s worried face was looking down at him.
“Pete, you’re alright.”
It took him a second too long to get his bearings, to figure out where he was and what was happening and why Jim was sitting on the edge of Pete’s bed, with a hand on his chest. On instinct, he grabbed at Jim’s hand.
“Take a breath, Pete.”
He did. Slowly things fell into place. “Did I wake you?”
Jim just rubbed his chest. “You remember what you were dreaming?”
“No,” Pete said. There was nothing except a sharp sense of sadness and fear, like all the worst parts of an adrenaline rush pushed together. He was breathing heavy, sweat beginning to pool at his temples. “I’m alright Jim.” But Jim didn’t move and Pete didn’t push him off the bed. He laid back down, letting the figments of memory and dream float all over him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this happening. “
“It’s alright, partner.” That was Jim’s nighttime voice, the one he’d only heard Jim use with the baby. Soft, so as not spook, and low enough that it could barely be heard. He scratched lightly at Pete’s chest and began to pull away.
Pete tightened his grip on Jim’s hand.
“OK,” Jim said. He pulled back the covers and Pete shifted to make space. Jim curled towards him, pressing up chest to back. He circled an arm around Pete’s waist and buried his nose in the crook Pete’s neck.
“Alright, Pete?”
Pete didn’t say anything, just intertwined their fingers together.
***
It bothered Pete less than he thought it would, waking up tangled with Jim. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all. What’s more, it didn’t look like it bothered Jim in the slightest either. He had none of the nervous energy of the last two days, but he still wouldn’t quit asking Pete how he’d slept.
“How many times do I have to tell you, I slept fine,” Pete said as they got their breakfast and sat down. “I’ll admit my pride’s a little wounded, but what really gets me is why this is happening now. “
Jim shrugged. He fixed his coffee exactly like Pete knew he would, two spoons of sugar, one splash of cream. “Could be anything, Pete. It just happens sometimes.”
He grunted, focusing less on his eggs and more on Jim. It wasn’t like looking at someone with new eyes, it was still Jim after all, but the warmth that spread through Pete’s abdomen, that was new. Pete had woken with Jim’s arm still slung around his stomach, his nose buried in the curve of Pete’s neck. He laid there and scratched lightly at the hairs on Jim’s forearm, till eventually he started to stir. They exchanged sleepy good mornings and Jim had burrowed deeper into the covers for a few minutes before eventually rolling off the bed and heading into the bathroom. It was not, in any scenario Pete had imagined, a normal way to wake up. But Jim didn’t seem to be dwelling on it. He shoveled food into his mouth at lightening speed and kicked Pete’s foot, just lightly, under the table.
“Come on partner, we got a big day.”
Their big day was 4 seminars stacked back to back. Of the many things Pete managed to block out about SWAT camp was the fair amount of book learning. SWAT training wasn’t just physical, the instructor barked at them, it was mental too. After breakfast they split up into small groups and went into sessions on psychology, deescalation and criminal profiling. It was all Pete could do to keep from nodding off. More than once Jim poked him with his pencil to keep him awake.
“Try and stay awake through this last one,” Jim said as they settled into a conference room for the last lecture of the day. “The lieutenant keeps eyeing, like he knows you’re about 10 seconds from nodding off.”
“I am ten seconds from nodding off,” Pete mumbled. “I don’t mind learning psychology and all that, but it wears on you to do it all day. Plus, I doubt there’s anything here that’s gonna keep my attention.”
He as good as ate his words though when the SWAT instructor welcomed a pretty brunette psychiatrist into the hall. Pete, like the rest of the room, immediately sat up a little straighter.
“You’ve all learned about keeping the body fit in times of stress, but my job today is to explain how to keep your minds fit as well,” she said. There were low groans around the room, but Pete became more alert than he had all day. “I won’t take up much time, but I do hope you’ll learn a few things.”
Her name was Dr. Sarah Saddler, and she talked about trauma and healing and processing emotions and all the other stuff that Pete had routinely never much bothered about. From beside him, Jim was scribbling furiously like had been all day, but Pete just listened.
“The things you’ve seen on the job will stay with you for a long time, gentlemen. I know therapy or talking about your emotions isn’t too popular or considered ‘manly,’ but I hope you’ll consider it.”
The room filed out quietly after her talk, and a few lunks stayed behind to try to flirt. Pete nudged Jim towards the door, and made his way up Dr. Saddler.
“Please don’t ask me if I want to try the mess hall offerings. I’ve already declined several invitations,” she said.
“No,” Pete said. “I would tell pretty much everyone to steer clear of that stuff. I actually wondered if you had a minute. To talk.”
She smiled, real and warm, and took a break from putting her papers in her bag. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, all that stuff about trauma. It sounds an awful lot like shell shock or combat fatigue. I gotta say, I didn’t think it applied to police officers.”
“It’s not terribly well understood just yet, but yes I think it can, Officer—?”
“It’s Malloy. Pete Malloy.”
“Officer Malloy.”
“Call me Pete.”
“Alright, Pete. What I was saying is that officers like yourself face life threatening, dangerous situations every day. Now, you may not be under constant attack like men in combat, but you’re exposed to so much violence, death and suffering. It has to take it’s toll.”
Pete considered her words. He hadn’t really ever thought about it that way. Everything she was describing was just doing the job. For his part, Pete had tried to never let it affect him.
“You can’t say that it doesn’t affect you,” she said, reading his mind. “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t carry those things around with you. Even if you try your best to leave them behind, or just not think about them, the things you experience have a way of sticking with you and showing up in ways you wouldn’t expect.”
“You mean like bad dreams? Nightmares?”
“Yes,” she said. “Nightmares or even night terrors. That’s certainly common.”
“Say someone’s never had too much trouble before with this stuff before, aside from being occasionally sad and all that. Can it just show up suddenly?”
“There’s no timeline, Pete. Things that happened years ago can sometimes bubble up to the surface for reasons we don’t totally understand.”
“Even if a guy goes years and years without having any problems.”
The doc nodded and squeezed his hand. “It could be. Let me put it to you this way. When you’re chasing a suspect, your body’s on high alert, right? All your senses are engaged and you’re operating on instinct, not really thinking about much aside from making sure the suspect doesn’t get away and you don’t get killed, right?
Pete nodded.
“It’s only after the chase is over that you stop and think it all through. It’s only after that your body relaxes and your heart rate drops back down and you stop breathing hard. The human mind is like that. If you keep it on a treadmill and never let it relax, it can’t catch up.”
Pete frowned. “So your brain just holds on to all that stuff, forever?”
She smiled. “Your brain and your body. Tension, stress, trauma, they live inside you until you can process them.”
Pete shook his head. “I still don’t get it doc. I’ve been with force for almost 10 years. Why would I start falling apart now?”
She squeezed his shoulder with a light touch. “I can’t say why now, but the mind can’t process things until it feels safe.” She followed his gaze to where it rested on Jim, who was waiting by the doors, chatting with a few officers. “Maybe you finally feel safe, Officer Malloy. Maybe someone’s finally made you feel that way.”
***
He chewed over her words all night, through dinner and a few rowdy games of pool at the rec center, right up until he and Jim were back in their room, undressing for bed. The radio, the open window, Jim lining up their shoes. This was his favorite part of the day and he realized with a pang he was going to miss it something fierce.
“What did the the doc say? Anything interesting?” Jim tugged off his pants, right in the middle of the room. In front of Pete and god and everyone.
“She said enough.”
“Any of it help?”
“Yeah, Jim. It helped.”
Jim turned towards his bed and made to get under the covers. Before he could, Pete held out of his hand. Jim stared at it for a long moment, before taking it. “You sure Pete?”
“I’m sure. As long as you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
Jim switched off the light and got under the covers. Pete’s eyes adjusted gradually to the darkness, and he started to make out the curve of Jim’s arm across his chest, the side of his face pressed into Pete’s shoulder. He wasn’t shy about sticking close, and sandwiched one his leg’s between Pete’s. In the dark, Pete trailed his fingers up and down Jim’s back, just grazing the edge of his shirt.
“I meant what I said Pete. I’d like to help if I could.”
“You’re helping, Jim. You’re helping.”
***
Pete didn’t think he dreamed. He woke up slowly, not with a start, but just a growing awareness of the light and the air and soft, light breathing beside him. No dreams, no lingering tension in his body. He flopped over to find Jim with his back to him, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Morning,” Pete said and he saw Jim’s back stiffen slightly with surprise.
“Morning,” Jim said. His hands were folded in his lap, and his tall, lanky frame was hunched over.
“Did I wake you last night?”
“No, not a bit.”
“Good.” He reached out and idly rubbed JIm’s back. He was surprised when Jim flinched from his touch. “Jim?”
Jim scrubbed a hand through his hair, and let out a low groan.
“Jim,” Pete tugged at his elbow, till he turned. There was a flush across his face, and from the side Pete could see a noticeable bulge inside Jim’s shorts. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think…It’s just sleeping with someone….”
Pete kept his hand on Jim’s elbow. “It’s alright, Jim. It happens.” But it had likely never happened to Jim, not like this and not with another man.“Nothing to be sorry about.”
But Jim kept babbling, He pressed the palm of his hand against the base of his erection in a effort to will it down, but it seemed to have the opposite affect. Pete sat up in bed, his own stomach flipping with heat at seeing Jim so exposed, so aroused. “Why don’t you go in the shower. Take care of that.” He meant to say it as a suggestion but it came out more like a command. Gentle, but still firm.
Jim groaned again, low and almost against his will.
“I’ll wait out here, till your finished,” Pete said. Even from the side, he could see Jim’s erection twitch at the sound of his voice. It made him light headed to see Jim like this. Like he might shoot off right in his shorts, just listening to Pete speak. He was rocking slightly, against the bed.
“Don't’ worry about rushing it,” Pete said. “Take it nice and slow if you need.”
Jim was off the bed and into the bathroom in two quick steps, slamming the door shut. Pete heard the shower run and his own face and chest burned thinking about what Jim was doing in there.
***
Pete didn’t bring it up when Jim got out of the shower, or during lunch or during their rec period after the day was done. There were enough drills and combat simulations that Jim could forget about it during the day, but Pete could tell he was avoiding going back to the room and played pool till there was no one else left.
“You gonna sleep in here or something, Jim?” Pete asked, looking around the almost empty rec center.
He sheepishly followed Pete back to their room. He flopped down face first and fully clothed in Pete’s bed.
“You gotta get over it Jim,” Pete said. This time, he walked around the room undressing and putting away the shoes so no one would trip. “It happens.”
There was only a muffled groan from the other side of the bed.
“Listen, partner, this way we’re a little even, ok?”
Jim turned over and stared at Pete. “You’re not asking me why it happened.”
Pete laughed. “Jim, I know why it happened.”
“No, I mean, usually it doesn’t happen with another man.”
“Well, this time it did.”
“That didn’t bother you?”
Pete sat on the bed and snaked a hand up Jim’s sweatshirt, brushing at the soft hairs along his navel. “Jim, I think you know damn well it didn’t bother me.” Jim was a good cop. Observant. Young but not so naive that he didn’t pick up on clues that Pete left behind. “I think you know I prefer it with men.”
Jim reached out a hand and stroked along Pete’s side. He brushed his thumb at a bare spot of skin along Pete’s waist. “Pete, tell me about Daniel. Please.”
Pete stared at him for a long time. Thought about Dr. Saddler and the years and years worth of memories and feelings his brain had been keeping huddled in a dark corner, and how Daniel’s death was just a painful fraction of what was lurking. “He was a good cop. And one of those cops who does it because they want to help people, not because they like shooting guns or because they watched too many old westerns. He had the sweetest laugh. That poor kid laughed at everything too. The dumbest thing could happen and he’d laugh about it for days. His wife loved the hell out of him. I only met her once, but you could see she was just mad about him. When it happened—” he had to pause, and clear his throat. “When it happened I remember thinking, that poor girl. That poor, poor girl.”
Jim reached out and pulled him into bed. He switched off the light and let Pete talk into the darkness for a long, long time.
***
It was too easy to get used to waking up with Jim’s legs tangled up in his. Too easy to see him in the bathroom brushing his teeth or step out of his pants and wander around in his skivvies. Pete thought about it the entire hour long drive back home. Tangled legs, hands carelessly wandering across any bit of exposed skin, the huff and closeness of breath.
“Pete.”
“Hm?”
“Pete.”
“I’m listening Jim”
“What are we gonna do?”
He sighed and stared at the open road in front of them. They’d be home soon, pulling up to Jim’s darling little single family. “Well, we’re working tomorrow, so i guess we’re gonna take calls like we usually do.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I know, but right now that’s all we can do.”
“I don’t want a new partner.”
Pete laughed. “Well shit, Jim. I’m glad. I don’t know what you made you say that, but I don’t want a new partner either.”
“I just thought, considering what happened. If you wanted to—” Like a heel, Pete let Jim twist in the wind. “If you wanted to just forget about everything and not see me again or”
“I don’t want to forget about anything. I don’t want to forget about any of it, Jim. Not a single thing.”
Jim audibly exhaled. “Good. Good.”
Pete reached over and slid a hand up Jim’s thigh. He kept it there till they pulled into the driveway of Jim’s house. It was dark now, and only the porch light was on. Jim took his things out of the back and Pete got out and walked him into the house. It was late and quiet and likely Jean and the baby were already in bed. Pete turned to leave but Jim pushed him up against the door, all six feet of him wrapped around Pete’s only slightly smaller frame.
“Jim.”
He nuzzled into Pete’s neck, holding him tightly. Pete squeezed him back just as hard. What are we going to do, indeed, Pete thought, feeling the gentle exhale of Jim’s breath against his skin. He pulled away and gave Jim a wink goodbye. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, partner. Like always.”