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"Benny."
Willard looked up before he could stop himself. He had told himself he wouldn't answer anybody until they just called him by his name already. It wasn't hard. Andrei managed it. But it seemed to fall flat to everyone else. Molnar especially.
Molnar was standing by the back of the jeep, jacket tied around his waist, and broad shoulders bare. Vietnam was hot, and Willard would have loved to dress as casually as Molnar did seemingly all the time, but there were still the prickles of paranoia in his brain that his uncle would be waiting around every corner, waiting to nitpick every wrinkle, every unbuttoned shirt, and every little thing that Willard was messing up.
"C'mere." Molnar said, jerking his head in the direction of the river, to the edge of the containment cage.
"No." Willard said simply. Molnar's leering eyes made him nervous. Everything did, but Molnar especially.
"C'mon, I'm not gonna mess with you this time."
Willard glanced at Lalo, who was sitting comfortably with his hat over his eyes, arms folded across his chest. A thin sheen of sweat dusted his tan skin. Willard was feeling the same stickiness on the collar of his shirt. The lake seemed like a nice idea, but Molnar had that zen expression on his face, and hint of skunk about him, and Willard thought again about Jericho and how much he did not want a shred of that steel attention. He knew that just standing near Molnar would set off Jericho's alarms, wherever he was.
"Lalo?" Willard asked nervously, hoping for some help.
"He's not gonna mess with you, hermano." Lalo said, voice thick and sleepy.
"Cross my heart." Molnar said, bouncing his eyebrows.
When Willard hesitated still, Molnar came over and gently grabbed him by the biceps, lifting him out of the truck like he was nothing but a toothpick. Willard made a tiny noise of discomfort. Molnar's grip was strong, but he knew it would be better if he didn't fight. Molnar set him down on the ground and gave him a little push towards the lake.
"I'm trying to be nice, Benny." Molnar said, exhaling comfortably and falling into step beside Willard.
It wasn't long before Willard was jogging a little to keep up. He could have turned around and gone right back to the jeep, but Lalo needed some rest, and Molnar needed some attention. Willard told himself that it would be better this way, bearing a little discomfort for the sake of something kind. Lalo would get to relax.
"I want you to meet someone." Molnar said. "I thought you were kind of a literal toddler when Xavier brought you on. I question that guy all the time, but I think that was the first time I almost asked him to step outside. But you're alright I guess."
Willard had never been called "alright" before in his life, and hadn't ever expected to be called as such by anyone. Especially Molnar.
Willard was afraid most of the time. He was scared of his uncle, and his demands. He was scared of Captain Wise and his tired, worn, face and the sadness he wore on his sleeve. He was afraid that Lalo would grow tired of babying him. He was terrified of Syd. He was scared of the dinosaurs he'd been so excited about. He was afraid of Molnar.
Especially Molnar.
Nothing seemed to bother him. He woke up with a smile, and spent his mornings smoking and thinking, occasionally throwing one of his musings into the mess hall. He philosophized out loud sometimes, when he was alone too. Willard heard him some nights, talking to himself and pacing, reaching levels of actualization that he would forget in the morning, and excitedly reach for again when the mood struck him. He got along with everyone, though not everyone seemed to like him. He never let it bother him. He was just nice.
"Not everyone gets to meet this guy." Molnar said, a touch of seriousness affecting his words. His leering eyes were softened by his joint, hazy but calm. "You have to be cool about this, Benny. I'm baring my soul here. He's the coolest guy I've ever met."
The bushes rustled, and Willard knew the sound. Over the past few months he had learned to recognize what immensity ascending through the underbrush sounded like, and he'd learned to be very afraid of it. Molnar's hands tightened on his biceps again, holding him in place, like he knew Willard wanted to run.
"Be cool, Benny." Molnar said in his ear. "He won't hurt you."
A whine rumbled from the ferns, sending little ripples across the water. Little waves brushed Willard's boots. He felt his stomach drop, and knew that he didn't want to die here, not in Vietnam, and not with Molnar. Especially not with Molnar.
A blast erupted from the bushes, sharp and trumpeting. Willard shouted in surprise and fright, reaching for Molnar by pure instinct. He was stunned to find his chilly, lithe hands clasped in big, warm, calloused ones. Molnar held him tightly, a huge grin plastered across his sharp face. A looming crest rose from the plants, bluer than his own hair. A head followed, yellow and pretty, the color of sunflowers on a spring morning. Dumb, but sweet brown eyes looked around as a duck billed snout mashed leaves between flat teeth.
The parasauropholous looked at Willard and Molnar, and tilted its head slowly, studying them. It bleated again.
Willard stared. In his time with Stalker Force, he'd seen Tyrannosaurs. He'd seen the Yutyrannus, and the Cryolophosaurs. He even had a bite on his shoulder from a utahraptor that could have been a lot worse had Captain Varnes not fought it off. But things moved so quickly in the valley, that Willard had never seen one of the herbivores up close. Perhaps he should have started with those. Maybe Captain Wise did need to be taken outside, just for a little bit at least.
"This," Molnar said, pushing Willard forward a little. "Is Johnny."
"Johnny…" Willard breathed shakily.
"Don't laugh, I'm kind of fragile after a few drags, ok?"
"Ok."
"I know for a fact, without a shadow of a doubt, we knew each other once in a past life. I think he forgot about me, and I think I forgot about him too for a bit, but I knew him the second I saw those eyes."
Willard was so struck dumb by the the closeness and the beauty of the creature that he forgot to find that silly. "Was he always called Johnny?" he asked instead.
Molnar grinned, and meant it. "I knew I liked you, Kiddo."
It had been so long since he'd been called anything affectionate by anyone. Especially Molnar, who had yet to even call him by his name. The kindness struck him, and softened his fear.
"I think his name must have been older than anything we could have thought of." Molnar said, reaching a hand up to Johnny. "But when I look at him, I can feel it in the back of my mind, y'know? Like when you see someone you've known for your whole life, you think 'there they are'."
Willard nodded, and tentatively reached out as well. His hand looked skinny and weak next to Molnar's big one. Even his blue flames couldn't make him look older. Johnny looked at their hands, huffing a little. His breath was hot and moist against Willard's palm. It smelled like chewed leaves and something a little rotten, but he didn't mind. He could see little pinpricks of teal, emerald, and robin's egg spattered against Johnny's blue crest, like pebbles in the bottom of his fish tank he had when he was very little.
"Hold very still." Molnar whispered.
There were many things about dinosaurs that still surprised Willard. Now, as Johnny stepped into the water to get a little closer to them, he was stunned at how graceful and soundless the movement was. The water swirled gently, caustics thrown against Johnny's scaled legs. He was right in front of them now, tail slipping entirely into the water from the opposite bank. The water barely moved.
Then Johnny leaned down and sniffed Willard's hand tentatively. Willard's mouth fell open, his heartbeat quickened. Johnny put his snout against Willard's palm, sniffing thoroughly. It was like a big, scaly dog. Willard couldn't help the breathy laughter that bubbled out of him. He hadn't ever touched a live dinosaur. Johnny's snout nosed Willard's wrists. Willard couldn't move, delight freezing him in place, his hand still outstretched. Johnny's sniffing moved down his arm, slow and curious. Then the duckbill prodded his neck, huffing warmly, and Willard gave a shout of laughter before he could stop himself. Johnny snorted and went back to Willard's wrist, nosing the blue flames.
"He likes the blue." Willard said, and for once didn't feel stupid for sounding so childish.
"Nah, man." Molnar said. "He likes you."
In that moment Willard couldn't help but grin. There was something about a dinosaur liking you that made everything else seem small. Who cared if Jericho called asking where he was, or saw his rumpled uniform, or his face split wide in an unabashed grin? Who cared if he was scared all the time? Who cared if it was too hot?
Johnny liked him.
And Willard was happy, for the first time in months, and he couldn't believe he was standing on the shores of a lake in Vietnam, with Molnar. Especially Molnar.