Starts with a Match

That's One Way to do it

I spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening working with Donovan. We didn't dare write down anything, not if it meant we would have to keep swallowing our secret notes, but we walked around outside until our feet ached, talking it all over.

Anytime one or both of us started to go too far down the negative and angry, one of us would remind the other of one line from Medrano's code: 'help forming in the core'.

Though, that made us a little more irritated than hopeful, honestly. Core of what? The US? Help from who? And for who? Is this aid to us? Or is this someone or something that's going to make the WG a thousand times worse?

One thing is for sure. Jim and Beth aren't safe in DC. Hannah's probably not safe in Russia. And Donovan, Seya and I all have clocks strapped to us. We're all fucking sunk.

I don't think I straightened my spine the entire four-mile hike to my car, the drive home, or the trudge from the driveway up to the front door.

Wobbling in and closing the door with my heel, I miss the mud bench with my keys entirely, and taking off my blouse is almost impossible with my sore back. Toby comes jogging out of the hall, fresh from the shower, wearing ripped shorts, my shirt and a big grin. After I asked them about Jackie, I texted them around lunch and told them I'd be home late. Didn't know 'late' meant well after 20:30.

My attempt at a smile feels just as ugly as it probably looks. "Oh—wow, hi," they chuckle, walking over.

"'Lo," I warble. I scowl at the bench and debate attempting to sit, or kicking a foot up one by one to take off my boots. Before I can do either, Toby's crouching, unlacing them for me. "Oh—no, you don't—"

"Want some tea? You look like you need tea," they say, moving on to the next boot.

When they stand, they hold my forearms and step on the toes of my boots, helping me wiggle my feet free, then they're unrolling my socks. I know for a fact those smell rancid. "Toby—stop, you don't need to do that."

"Why not?" they ask, standing and flipping hair from their shoulder. "You've clearly had a long day, and you've been amazing all week, right?" I rub a fist into my eye and shrug. "Like the other day...amazing. Remember?"

Like I could forget that Toby, Jesus.

They stand on their toes, puff of breath warm over my chin, and I drop my face to feel their huffing chuckle breeze across my lips. "Lemme care of you a bit, huh?"

"Yeah..." they smile, and I smile more like a human being. One who's a lot happier to be home than he was ten seconds ago.

Love you, Toby. I'm tired enough that those words are liable to just slip right out. Might not be the worst thing. Who knows how long I got to live at this point anyway.

Toby takes off for the kitchen, saying next, "Tell me why you look like death warmed over, Kev. Did you find your Jackie person?"

If Jackie is as dangerous as I think she is, the last thing I need is curious Toby looking into her for me.

I follow them to the kitchen, leaning too far left, too far right. "Sort of. Can I talk about it later? If that's okay?"

Toby peeps a 'sure!' and I step around the counter and go for their elbow before they can reach for the kettle that hangs under the cabinets. "Can I get a hug instead?"

They puff their chest and reach up with grabby hands, pulling me down. I melt instantly. "God, I needed this."

"I can tell—you're so tense, Kev," Toby replies, pressing circles into my back.