Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Garin forced himself forward, driving down the gangway and out of the hangar without looking back. He had done hard things before. He had done impossible things he was sure would kill him and they hadn't. This wouldn't either.

Duty, honor, sacrifice. The values drilled into him by the military had resonated with him so strongly, because he'd already held them deep in his core. They gave him the strength he needed to do impossible things.

Garin left the hangar behind and headed toward his family's temporary quarters, blind to the world around him.

The problem was, he didn't feel dutiful now. And he didn't feel honorable. He felt like a pathetic coward, unworthy of the devotion an amazing man had bestowed on him. He'd never felt like that before.

Every pace he put between himself and Sazahk felt like a betrayal to the man he loved and to himself, but he pushed onward, reaching the apartment building Alistair Turner had put his family up in.

Each pace was not away from Sazahk, he told himself as he climbed the stairs, stomping on each step to jar the words into his bones. And it was not an abdication of responsibility. Each step was toward his sister, his brothers, his mother. It was an acceptance of the responsibility he had taken on long ago, with no regrets and no hesitation.

Sazahk understood that.

Hell, Sazahk had been willing to give him up for it.

Maybe he should have.

Garin shoved the thought away as he shoved open the door.

"Kevin, thank god. Can you close this?" Ethan pushed an overstuffed suitcase at Garin's feet.

"He's not gonna be able to close it. You over-packed it." Lucas rolled his eyes as he gathered his own things from the dining room table.

"What the hell is going on here?" Garin's horror mounted as he looked around the living room of the suite, spying a thousand bits and bobs out of place: socks, shoes, toiletry bags, notebooks, tablets, chargers, dishes, and cups. "Your transport leaves in forty minutes. You should be ready to go."

"We are ready." Beaty carried two duffels down the hall.

"This is not ready." Garin pointed at Ethan's open bag, Lucas's notebooks piled up on the floor, and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. "This should all be gone."

"We're almost ready." Beaty dropped her bags by the door and took over reorganizing Lucas's suitcase.

"Where's Mom?" Garin rushed into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. They couldn't leave the place in this mess.

"She's in a meeting." Ethan checked all the charging stations and under the furniture for any lingering stragglers.

"A meeting?" Garin threw him a confused look over his shoulder as he dug around under the sink for a sponge. Ethan didn't hear him as he ran back into the hall, presumably to grab even more luggage, so Garin glanced at Beaty. "What meeting?"

"Her morning meetings." Beaty wrestled the zipper of Ethan's suitcase closed. "She got a job, Kevin."

Garin grappled with that thought as he scrubbed a plate. His mother couldn't have a job. His mother couldn't hold down a job. Once, sure, she'd held down an entire lab full of people. At least, that's what Garin's childhood memories told him.

But she hadn't done that in a long time. Decades. And why was she trying? It was too much. She'd only just found a medication that worked. What if the effects were temporary? What if pushing too hard, too fast, ruined the gains she'd made?

And how had she done it? How did she even know how to get a job? She hadn't socialized in years!

Garin loved his mother. He knew she was brilliant and capable. She just wasn't when she was sick. And she'd been sick for a long time. She was still sick. She'd been sick for so much of Garin's life that she was sick almost as a matter of definition.

"It seems to be going really well." Beaty took the wet plate from Garin's hand and wiped a towel over it.

"That doesn't make any sense." Garin rinsed a bowl and handed it to her.

"Why not?" Beaty put the plate on the drying rack and took the bowl. "They have her on fission research. She was a leading expert once."

"Yeah, once." Garin shook his head at the na?veté, then yelled over his shoulder. "Ethan, Lucas, you better be out here in five minutes."

"They'll be done before that, Kevin." Beaty took the cleaned forks out of his hand with a frown. Kevin. Garin gritted his teeth at the name, the sound of it compounding his grief with his irritation at them into resentment, spurred by the confusing realization about his mother and the frustrating situation he would have to fix. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Garin moved on to the pot encrusted with something that had been cooked at too high a heat for too long.

Beaty sighed and passed him the heavy-duty dish soap. "Did you have a nice time at the gala?"

"Yes," Garin half-lied. It had been a nice time. Then it had been an awful time. Then it had been a wonderful time. And now it was an awful time again. But that was all more disclosure than he wanted to engage in.

"Did you spend it with Sazahk? Did he look amazing?"

Garin glared at his sister, but she had her back to him as she put a plate away, probably on purpose. "Yes, of course. Everyone looked amazing." Garin shoved his clean pot onto the drying rack. He wasn't playing this game right now. "Ethan! Lucas! If?—"

"Kevin! Everyone is coming. It's fine." Garin's mother rolled a bag down the hallway, fully dressed, her hair done, looking like someone he'd never seen.

"Well, they're coming late." Garin took her bag and placed it next to Beaty's by the door.

"You know, Kevin, I think we all expected you to be a lot more relaxed after last night." Lucas came down the hallway, lugging his bags.

"What does last night have to do with you being late? As usual?" Garin couldn't count how many times he'd dragged the twins out of bed to get to school. He'd been doing it since before he'd left school himself. His mom certainly hadn't been able to do it, just like she wasn't doing it now. And where would they all have been then?

"Didn't you spend it all with Sazahk?" Ethan passed their mom her purse.

"Not sleeping?" Lucas finished Ethan's sentence in that way they still did.

"Sazahk doesn't have anything to do with this." Garin snatched Lucas's bags from his hands and put them by the door. "This has to do with you needing me to do freaking everything for you, always, all the time!"

"Kevin! That's not even—" Beaty cut herself off with a deep breath, and her flash of anger banked. "That's not true, and that's not what this is about." Garin opened his mouth, and Beaty raised her hand and stuck her palm in his face. "Stop." She swung to their mother, her hair flying. "Mom, can you please?—"

Their mother raised her hand more calmly and nodded. "I got it."

Garin scowled and made for the door. "There's no time to get anything."

His mom caught his arm, her fingers surprisingly firm around his biceps. "There's time. Boys, take the bags down to the transport bay. Beaty, go with them."

"Mom." Garin reached to pry off his mother's hand, but she gave him a sharp look he hadn't seen since he was a child, and he shut his mouth.

Ethan, Lucas, and Beaty filed out, shooting him looks that were more concerned than resentful, and Garin felt guilty for snapping at them.

His mother tugged him to the couch. "Sit down, Kevin."

"Mom—"

"Sit down, Kevin. There's time."

Garin pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, then sat beside his mother. She hadn't been firm with him, or strict with him, or had the energy to be anything even approaching those words, since he was shorter than her, and hearing that tone from her made him feel small again.

He felt the stirrings of some child in him that had never grown up, because he'd buried it alive.

His mother looked at him for a long while, then took his hand in both of hers. "You were so young when you stepped up."

The little child in Garin dragged itself out of its early grave and Garin's hand shook in his mother's.

"You took on so much." His mother brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. "You were so brave. And you never wavered, and you never complained." She cupped his cheek. "You're the only reason we're still here."

Garin bit his lip as his throat tightened. He didn't want to feel this right now. He was already raw and there wasn't time. But the lump in his throat held back his words. Some acknowledgement of the reality he'd been living without daring to analyze sank into him. There was a reason he didn't look too closely at this life. It was too hard; it was too overwhelming; it had been ever since he'd been eleven years old and realized he was the only capable adult left in the family.

"And you shouldn't have had to do that, baby."

Garin's chest cratered. Heat welled up in his throat and burned his eyes. He opened his mouth and a sob burst out.

"You should have never had to." Garin's mother pulled him into her arms, and he shattered against her, heaving and shuddering.

It had been so hard for so long and he hadn't wanted to admit it. He hadn't been able to admit it and he had never dared to ever, ever admit how fucking sad he'd been.

"Oh, baby." Garin's mother kissed his forehead and pet her fingers through his hair. "You did so good."

He'd been so alone, and he'd been so scared, and he'd just wanted his mother until he'd built up the wall of realization that he would never have her again. He would never get her back. It was all up to him forevermore.

"You did so good." Garin's mother held him tight, her own voice thickening. "And I am so sorry."

"N-n-no". Garin struggled to speak through his sobs. Hot tears rolled down his face, staining his mother's shirt. He'd forgotten how to cry. He'd forgotten how overpowering it was, how devastating it was, how it wracked his whole body. "No," he choked out. "No, you were sick."

"And you needed me." Garin's mother rubbed his back as it heaved.

"I managed. We all managed." Garin composed himself enough to sit up, his face wet and his nose clogged, his throat scratchy and thick.

"You more than anyone." Garin's mother pulled her long sleeves over her thumbs and wiped the tears from under Garin's eyes. "We're here because of you, Kevin, but you don't have to do it all anymore."

Garin swallowed down the lump in his throat, finally finding it easier to speak. "I don't do all of it."

"But you don't need to do any of it anymore."

A disbelieving, cynical snort burst from Garin's nose. He pulled his mother's hands from his cheeks. "Mom?—"

"I'm serious, Kevin." His mom's stern tone returned. "Beaty runs the household on top of her own job. The boys just got incredible offers?—"

"From the lab that killed Dad," Garin balked. He'd tried to talk to the boys and convince them they didn't need to go back there. That there were plenty of other companies doing amazing research. But they hadn't wanted to hear it.

"What happened to your father was a tragic accident." His mother's lips tightened. "But the boys and Beaty can take care of themselves now."

"That doesn't mean they don't need me." Garin shook his head and tried to stand.

"Of course, they still need you, Kevin." Garin's mother grabbed his hand and yanked him back down. "But not to take care of them. You raised them and you did a damn good job. But now they're adults and you're their brother. And they love you."

"That's not…" Garin covered his eyes and dug his middle finger and thumb into his temples. "It's more than that."

Garin hadn't just raised them. He'd shielded them. Not as much as he would have liked, but as much as he could.

"I know. It's me, too."

Garin dropped his arm down as his lips trembled, the sobs threatening to return. His mother squeezed his hand with a soft, understanding smile. He'd never said it all before and articulating it sharpened the pain of it to a point.

"I don't want them to have to be responsible for you, too. I don't want them to live like I did." Garin dropped his gaze to their clasped hands, unable to look in his mother's eyes as he battled the resentment and the guilt at his resentment and the grief of the life he'd never lived. "I want them to pursue the careers they want to pursue. Make choices that are good for them. Fall in love with someone and—" his voice caught "—And be with them."

Garin's mother reached for his face again, and he jerked back. He had to get the words out.

"And they can't do that if I don't handle you!"

For a long moment, Garin's mother said nothing. He kept his gaze riveted to their hands, and, silently, she put her other hand on top of his and patted it.

"And I'm glad that you're doing so well now." Garin shook as he continued. "But it has been two months that you've been here and two decades that you've been functionally gone, Mom, and if we lose you again, I cannot let that land on them." He jabbed his finger at the door his siblings had left through.

"Have you ever thought that maybe they don't want it to land on you, either?" His mother pulled his hand back down and forced him to look at her.

Garin scoffed. "They're too young."

"They were too young. They're not anymore." Garin's mother clutched his clenched fist. "They don't want you to sacrifice yourself, Kevin, and they certainly don't want to be the reason you do it."

Garin pulled his hand free. "Better me than them."

"That is not true." Garin's mother grabbed his shoulders. "I know I am the reason you have had to shoulder so much. And you have no idea how grateful I am for how you took care of this family, for how you took care of me. But I will not hold my son back anymore."

Garin winced. "Mom, you didn't?—"

"I did." Garin's mother's jaw clenched, her eyes serious but pained. "I did. But that's over now."

Garin sighed. "Mom, you don't know that."

"The meds are working and I am working and I will pay for them." His mother slid her hands from his shoulders to either side of his face.

"And if they stop? If the price goes up?" Garin tried to tug free.

His mother didn't let him go. "Then you have three amazing siblings that will help carry the load, Kevin."

"No!" Garin tore himself loose. "I don't want that for them."

"And they don't want this for you." His mother dug her fingertips into the couch's upholstery and didn't grab for him again. "Don't make them watch you ruin your life."

Garin stood. "I'm not ruining my life."

"Where's Sazahk?"

Garin's spine went rigid. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Do you think this is what your siblings want?" Garin's mother snapped to her feet. She'd been so hunched and waifish for so long, Garin had forgotten she was almost as tall as he was. "You think this is taking care of them? You think this is protecting them?"

"I'm doing this for them?—"

"It's not for them! It's for you."

Garin recoiled.

His mother pressed her advantage. "For them, it is guilt and grief and sorrow and worry. Don't make them live with that. They don't want to be the people that abandon their brother. Don't make them those people."

Garin's own words hit him like a slap in the face. Don't make me that person . That was what he'd said to Dominic. He couldn't have lived with letting someone he loved throw everything away.

Was that what he was making his siblings live with? Was that what Beaty carried every time she found out about the hazard pay they'd get because he'd volunteered for some horrible mission? Was that what Lucas and Ethan carried? Was that what they'd felt when they'd looked at Sazahk and they'd looked at him and known it would end in tragedy?

Because his siblings weren't stupid. His siblings saw what he did. And as much as Garin denied it, they saw what it did to him. And he'd struggled to make sure they would never feel about their life the way he felt about his.

Because the pain of that would have been unbearable. But he was forcing them to carry that pain.

When he'd walked out of Sazahk's ship that morning, he'd stabbed himself in the heart and he'd stabbed the hearts of every single damn person that loved him and loved Sazahk.

Garin pressed his palms into his eyes, then dragged his hands down his face to cover his mouth. Shit, shit, shit. Why was it all so complicated?

Garin's mother pulled his hands from his face and squeezed them. "Chase him."

Garin thought of Alistair Turner waiting for him in a fancy ship with his contract lined up. "But the money…"

Garin's mother shook her head. "We don't need it. We'll be fine."

"But I can't just…" Run off? Be happy? Do whatever he wanted? Follow his damn heart? Garin had never in his entire life done anything like any of those things. Just thinking the thoughts thrilled and terrified him.

Garin's mother turned him toward the door. "Kevin, he leaves soon."

Garin took a step forward, then hopefulness overflowed his chest, and he hesitated. Uncertainty gripped him, a sense that it was all too good to be true.

"Is it…?" Garin looked back at his mother, finding her there with him, really with him. "It's really okay?"

His mother smiled at him. "Sweetheart, I would hazard to say it is the only okay thing for you to do. Go."

Urgent certainty burned away the dregs of Garin's doubts.

He rushed from the apartment. Flying down the steps at precarious speed, he pulled his tablet from his pocket. Squad M could leave at any second. They could have already left.

He called Sazahk as he raced down the street. They'd been running a little late that morning and leaving a hangar after a conference was always a crapshoot. Other ships trying to leave could have gummed up the shipping lanes.

They could still be on the station.

Garin's tablet dinged as his call went unanswered.

Did that mean they were on the runway?

Were they already in space and en route to Qesha?

Garin called again, dodging pedestrians giving him dirty looks as he almost bowled them over.

Again, no answer.

Shit, what could Sazahk possibly be doing?

Garin called Fal'ran.

No answer.

He called Patrick.

No answer.

He didn't even have contact info for Bar'in and Tar.

Irrational panic setting in, Garin broke into a run.

He knew nothing was wrong. There had been no explosion. There had been no attack. There was no chance that Sazahk or anyone else from Squad M was in any danger.

There wasn't even a chance Sazahk would elude him for long. Squad M wasn't flying straight into the Dead Zone. They were going to the compound. They'd be there for at least a day before Sazahk and Fal'ran set out. Someone would pick up one of his calls before then, either while they were en route or once they got there.

Hell, Garin might even beat them there if he got hold of a ship.

And if he was proposing forever to Sazahk, then a few more hours apart wouldn't kill him.

But it damn well felt like it would.

Garin sprinted across an intersection, finally reaching the hangar district.

He didn't want to prolong this hell. He wanted the new start. He wanted the new life. He wanted to make it right. Ever since he'd left the apartment, things had started to feel right. They slotted into place like never before.

And Garin wanted to finish the job.

He wanted Sazahk with him. He wanted to fix what he'd broken that morning when he'd walked away. He wanted to see that rich brown bloom over Sazahk's cheeks, that brown that he finally understood, that brown that maybe he'd always understood.

The brown meant Sazahk loved him. Sazahk loved him, and Garin wanted to love him back.

Garin burst through the entryway to the diplomat's hangar, ruffling some dignitaries' robes as he passed.

Sazahk's ship had docked here. Here, just behind the large, gaudy one.

But Garin skidded around a corner to an empty lot.

No. No, no, no, no, damn it. Why had he left that morning? Why? Why had he delayed and dodged instead of having that conversation with his mother days ago? Garin pushed his hands into his hair and pulled. And now Sazahk had flown away with his heart broken, and that was Garin's doing.

He stopped on the spot Sazahk's ship had been and spun around, in denial and searching for something that might have delayed them.

He spotted it in a flash of motion.

The ship he already recognized on sight rolled to the exit.

Garin ran for it, and as he approached, it slowed, blocking the line of ships behind it. It stopped, and despite the traffic jam, lowered its gangway.

A flurry of movement appeared at the entrance before the ramp touched down.

"Garin, what in the world are you doing? The human skeletal system is no match for the wheel of a spacefaring vehicle. This area is off limits to pedestrians for extremely rational and necessary reasons!" Sazahk stormed toward him, red high on his cheeks.

"Sazahk." Garin slowed to a stop before the other man, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Recklessness was never a trait I associated with you." Sazahk waved his hands about. "What in the world has gone wrong enough to precipitate this behavior?"

"Sazahk." Garin gasped for air after his sprint. He struggled to form and evaluate words, so he simply confessed what he should have confessed a week ago. "I wanted you, too."

"What?" Sazahk dropped his hands and eyed Garin as though assessing his soundness of mind. "This morning I understood that to be a present tense statement."

"It is!" Garin nodded frantically, bending over and resting his palms on his knees as he panted. "It is, but…" He caught his breath and straightened up. "But you told me that when you got your implant removed, you wanted me. And when I was bleeding out in that server room, I wanted you, too."

Sazahk blinked, the fury draining from his expression. "You thought of me?"

Garin nodded and reached for him. "I regretted how we left things. I regretted not telling you how I felt. I regretted that I'd never see you again."

Sazahk caught his hand and tangled their fingers, his brow still furrowed in confusion. "But you did see me again."

"But my point is that my life was almost over, and my biggest regret was that you hadn't been in it." Garin brought Sazahk's hand to his face and rested his forehead on his knuckles. He took a deep breath, then kissed those knuckles and met Sazahk's eyes. "I don't want to make that mistake now."

Sazahk's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Is that meant to be an explanation for your brash behavior?"

Garin stepped closer to him. "Take me with you."

Sazahk raised his eyebrows, but cautious understanding dawned in his dark eyes. "On my ship?"

Garin caught his other hand. "On your ship. Into the Dead Zone. Wherever you go for the rest of time, take me with you."

"What about your family?" Sazahk bit his lip but didn't step back when Garin closed the gap between them, pressing their foreheads together. "You're responsible for them."

Garin shook his head. "I'm responsible for myself. They don't need me, not anymore. But Sazahk…" Garin cupped Sazahk's jaw and stroked his cheek with his thumb. "I need you."

Sazahk's breath caught, and his gaze flicked to Garin's lips, then back up into his eyes. "That's a bold hypothesis."

"I know." Garin smiled ruefully. "And I know that after a lifetime of ignoring my own needs, there is very little evidence to support I have any idea what they even are."

Yellow, brown, and green blushed across Sazahk's nose as he chuckled. "You're a very intelligent man, Garin, but I'm afraid that's true. However…" Sazahk wrapped his long fingers around Garin's wrist and turned his face into his palm. "There are strategies for testing bold hypotheses."

"There are." Garin inhaled deeply. He'd never been so ready to jump off a precipice. "Sazahk, I would like to test whether spending every waking second with you makes me happier than I have ever been in my entire life."

Sazahk laughed, the bright sound and the yellow spreading across his nose giving him a radiance that rivaled any star in the galaxy. He flung his arms around Garin's neck and pulled him close until their lips brushed. "I will gladly conduct that experiment with you."