Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 46

The bowl of ice cream in front of Ram had melted to the consistency of milky bathwater while his father explained a few things about his work in quiet, analytical tones. Mary and Paro kept busy with folding laundry, damn more laundry, and cutting up vegetables for a salad, hoping to even out consumption of ice cream with healthy greens. Reese returned in time to help with cutting vegetables, but eyeing the still melting cartons of ice cream. He was welcome to them, thought Ram.

"So, someone wants you dead," said Ram softly to his father.

Massaru shrugged, a grim smile on his face. "I have gotten used to it. It is not so bad."

"How do you get used to that?"

"I knew you and your mother were home. Safe."

"And now?"

Massaru's smile dropped. "Terrified. You are not safe anymore."

Ram tossed his unused spoon to the window seat and sipped at his bowl of melted butterscotch and vanilla. Thick and sweeter than a milkshake, but better than letting it go to waste. Yet it churned in his stomach as reality weighed on him.

"That why you wanted me and Mary to get marry while you were gone?" said Ram. "Part of that "live for the moment" mentality."

"That, yes," admitted Massaru. "And I was already married at your age."

Ram rolled his eyes and took another mouthful of too sweet melted ice cream. "I'm not going to propose now, dad."

"But when I am safe, your mother and you safe, will that be a good time?"

"Can't," said Ram. Then he grinned at the memory. "She already asked me."

Massaru's eyes widened. "When?"

"In the elevator." Ram shrugged, grinning. "A lot can happen in an hour."

"You said yes?"

"Duh!" Ram's smile faltered a bit. "I hope I didn't "red shirt" myself by getting engaged."

"Red shirt?"

"It's from Star Trek. Means tempting fate."

"Ah," nodded Massaru, knowingly. "Like having oranges."

"What?"

"The Godfather. Oranges mean someone will die."

Ram nodded, and then looked over to the fruit bowl in the kitchen, checking to see if they had acquired any oranges in the last day.

***

Will lay on the floor of the shed, trying to get comfortable with large cracks in the wood grain against his back. Louis, a few yards--or inches, Will couldn't decide which at this size--away from Will, paced back and forth in front of the slightly open door that loomed over them both. Spats of rain and wind slipped in now and again. The chain Will had been attached to rock back and forth, clinking an uneven rhythm. Will shuddered. He could be in another one of his nightmares again, the setting was too surreal. Being small made him feel colder for some reason. As he stared up at the far away ceiling he imagined clouds accumulating in the rafters.

Louis stomped by Will again, the lightening cutting through the rain. "How can you just lay there?" he snapped.

"Gravity," said Will. His aching ribs had needed a break, as did the rest of him. "The spinning of the Earth allowing me to lay here instead of floating off into space."

"Science nerd," snorted Louis. "Good going, Fanboy."

"We can't do anything at this size," reasoned Will. "Reese and Beni are with the Devis. As much as you don't like them, I'm sure they can hold their own against Sandra, even if she is crazy."

"We wouldn't be stuck here if you could have kept your leg up so I could get that razor."

We wouldn't be here at all if you had stayed with us at the Laundromat, thought Will. But he didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't change their situation. He closed his eyes, feeling the thunder vibrate the floorboards. "So, back in Everett, Sandra's guys were following you? That why you couldn't call?"

"I don't know," said Louis. "Thinking about it they probably only noticed me once I saw them. Those guys weren't that organized or they would have looked around for Massaru once they had me. And they left my coffee."

Will huffed a breath. There had been many coincidences lately, and he was sick of them. He turned to his side and pushed himself into sitting position, his muscles screaming in protest. He was going to get Louis to talk to him about this "thing" between them, and he would do it looking him in the face. Damn Louis' "rule one of Fight Club" routine.

"We need to talk," said Will.

Louis kept pacing, but rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to alleviate a headache. "Not this again."

Will did no relent. "Did you leave the Laundromat because you wanted coffee, or because you didn't want to be around me?"

"Or the smell of detergent was getting to me. Does it matter? We found two of Sandra's men thanks to me."

"After they got the jump on you." Will got to his feet after Louis turned his back to him, facing the storm outside rather than look at him. "I want to know why you're avoiding me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Louis spun about, face a grimace, the words like a bitter pill. "I have to spend enough time with you, and in you as it is. Can't I have some free time alone?"

"Not when it means leaving people we're supposed to protect vulnerable."

"I had a lead, and I followed it."

Will took a step forward into Louis' space. "You got tied up deliverance-style in the woods."

"So did you! And I was going to call, okay? But I got knocked out before I could push the button. Not much I can do when I'm unconscious."

Will blinked and took another step forward. "While possibly suffering from a concussion, you shrank us?"

"We didn't have much of a choice." Louis lowered his head, arms crossing over his chest. "And I don't feel that bad anymore."

"I'm your partner!" insisted Will, hands palm up in supplication. "You have to tell me these things so I can back you up."

Louis moved closer to the door, as if hoping the cold would keep Will away. "Back me up all you want. But you're not my goddamn protector, alright! You can't just hide me away inside you and expect me to be happy that I don't have to do anything. It doesn't work that way."

"I know I can't protect you! I figured that out the moment Zachs shot me," Will's voice rose along with his frustration. "And I know you hate being inside, dammit! If I'm not hearing you freak out then I'm feeling you freak out, and it doesn't go away."

That got Louis' attention. The blond snarled, indignant. "I don't freak out!"

"Yes, you do! Guess what? I'm not the reason you're claustrophobic, and it doesn't matter who you ended up partners with, you'd still be scared."

"That's where you're wrong," said Louis. He stepped closer to Will, getting face to face with a disgusted look marring his tired eyes. "It does matter that it's you. Because you aren't just another agent trying to get the job done; you're the Fanboy playing out his little fantasy of saving the world, starting with recycling the fuckin' glass."

That hit Will like a splash of melted wax. His jaw clenched as he swallowed down his rage, and he leaned a few inches closer, making out the flashes of sliver left in Louis' eyes. His voice was barely controlled calm. "You have no idea what I've done in the past, where I've been, what I've seen. I don't get to judge you, so you don't get to judge me."

Louis ran his sight up and down Will's wet, disheveled body, and then snorted. "There ain't much of you worth judging."

Will was tired, cold, and hurt. That didn't stop him from throwing a punch at Louis' face.