Two Heartbeats on One Page

Chapter 11

Darcey glanced at his computer. It was only about 11:00, but Brett had fallen asleep an hour ago and Darcey still hadn't been able to settle down since. His mind was working too hard on things he couldn't do anything about, like always. Being kicked out of the Army. The nightmares. Going back to school. Getting health insurance. Finding work. Finding his own place. Getting a car. Fixing each one relied on something else that he didn't have figured out yet, and it all ran around in a chaotic mess he couldn't get under control.

Here at Brett's, Darcey had a decent setup of comforters and extra pillows on the floor. He'd slept in worse places. For the most part, he'd been staying with his parents, but Brett crashed before he could drive him home and needed the car in the morning. It was too far to walk and the buses didn't run this late.

He sighed and flicked his finger across the laptop trackpad, back and forth, idly moving the cursor around the screen. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the desk. It had been years, but he'd never gotten used to the feeling of not feeling. Sometimes he could sense slight amounts of pressure in his fingertips or on the back of his wrist, but for the most part, his entire lower arm was a dead weight. At least he still had it and it was functional. He could have lost it completely. That didn't make it any less strange or disconcerting.

His eyes dropped to his hand, shadowy and dark, illuminated only by the light of the computer screen. He paused, turned his hand. His eyes ran over the scars on his wrist and forearm, so faint now that sometimes he thought he was the only one who could still see them. The scars were the only places he still had feeling, and it was only the barest tingle every now and then. He slowly tapped his thumb against each finger. It took longer than it should have and he slipped a few times. He had to start working on his fine motor skills again or he was going to lose them.

How was Campbell doing? Was Doc okay? Where did Teeth ever end up? What happened to Robinson?

He glanced back at the clock in the corner of the screen. 2303. They'd ship out tomorrow, probably in the morning. If they had any sense, they'd be sleeping while they were still guaranteed it.

Darcey's phone was in his pocket, even though he hadn't gone anywhere. It was habit. He fished it out and flipped it open. He had a new text he didn't hear come in, but he'd get to it in a minute.

He still knew Campbell's number by heart. His text was short.

Thank you for trying. Take care of yourself over there.

He sent it off, then searched his contacts for Doc. His was just as simple.

Thanks for everything. You'd better come home.

He'd never known Robinson, and, frankly, was glad of it. Teeth would still have access to her phone tomorrow. He'd call her then.

His phone beeped three times in quick but sporadic succession.

The first was Doc.

You bet your ass I'll be coming home. You can't get rid of me that easy. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more. Good luck, Walker.

The second was Campbell.

I'm sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. I didn't mean for all of this to happen. You're a good man and a good soldier. Good luck.

Darcey's hand tightened on the phone. He nearly deleted it, but he hesitated. He locked it in, instead.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe to remind himself that even when people didn't like each other, they could still take care of one another. Campbell had been the one to tell everyone about him, but Darcey was the one who planted the seed, and if he was being truthful to himself, he'd manipulated Campbell into doing it. Darcey couldn't in good conscience hold anything against him, because he'd had done exactly what Darcey had wanted.