AN: One of many neglected fics in my sentbox. Trying to get all out of the way so I can quit with relatively few regrets. This is one of two or three that I actually like.
Beta'ed, and vastly improved, by the fabulous Allthinky.
Sometimes it was good to work for a top-secret government organization.
Correction. Sometimes it was good to have a partner who remembered that you worked for a top-secret government organization when you were too wasted to think of it—heck, to think at all.
He supposed it was a bit of a shock to discover that your childhood pal had turned traitor and then to see him dead, all in one evening. Not counting… any other stuff. Best not to think about that too closely, Scotty thought. Best not to think of it at all. Least said, soonest mended and all that. Right.
Tommy's last breath had barely shuddered out of his lifeless body before Kelly was there, tugging on his arm, shepherding him back into the house. Scotty had just managed to make out enough of his partner's words to make sense: get you out of the picture… already made the call… Russell Gabriel… local police… cover story… crime wave victim.
And all through Kelly's monologue, lifting Scotty with a hand under his elbow and a supporting arm round his back, getting him into the house and shoving a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, just like Mom used to make – oh, love it all, Mom had made it – settling him on the couch and kneeling at his feet, dusting him off and checking him over as his mother and sister came over and sat on the couch flanking him – Scotty had wanted to ask his partner why he was there, why he hadn't gone off to Washington and reported him, back then when he'd regained consciousness, why he was taking care of Scotty, protecting him… why he was still here.
"…something to eat. I think we could all use a little pick-me-up, don't you, Alexander?"
With an effort, Scotty focused. "Sure, that'd be great."
Mom rose and bustled into the kitchen, a determinedly cheerful smile on her face. "A nice supper, that's what we need after all this excitement."
Jo gave him a nervous smile; she was all shook up, and Scotty couldn't blame her. The way she didn't look at Kelly at all, though… "Mom thinks cooking is the cure for everything."
"You mean it isn't?" he said with feigned innocence.
"Jo, honey, could you lend me a hand?"
His sister rose, clearly not happy about it. "You get to sit here, you're men," she half-joked.
Scotty nearly said, "One of the perks of getting shot at," but remembered that she, too, had had a pretty crummy day. "You want me to help her?" he asked with perfect sincerity, shifting to rise.
Jo's face smoothed out as though by magic. "No, it's okay." She looked him up and down. "You better get cleaned up. You know how fast Mom cooks when she has a mind to."
"Can I count on you to slow her up some?"
He was relieved to see a little of the spark back in her eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
It was only as the kitchen door swung shut that Scotty noticed Kelly's fixed stare, his slightly blank face. But before he could comment, Kelly had heaved himself up, steadying himself for a moment on the sofa arm, and extended a hand to Scotty. "Come on, Louis Philippe. Can't show up at the dinner table looking like disreputable ruffians."
Warmth bubbled up through Scotty at his partner's familiar turn of phrase, and he let Kel reach out and pull him up. His partner let go of his hand, but immediately slipped an arm round him, patting his back bracingly as they walked out.
Scotty wanted to ask him how he was, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, "She didn't mean it, you know."
"Who did not mean what, Herman? I feel obligated to tell you, the vagaries of feminine reactions are not first on the agenda right…"
"What she said at the bar." The words had burned Scotty then, but it had hardly been the time to speak of that. 'She's your mother, not his,' Jo had said, and the thought of what Kelly had just done, and then to be repaid thus… "She don't mean nothin', she was just scared is all."
"Certainly she was," Kelly said with studied lightness. "Certainly she was. But I do not recall anything that she said in the bar, I was too focused on the mission."
And Scotty was forced to fall silent, snookered. Kelly's assertion of amnesia would force Scotty to repeat the words if he wanted to talk about them, and there was no way he was doing that. And Kelly knew it. Scotty scowled slightly at Kelly. Devious.
Kelly smiled blandly, and shepherded Scotty into the bathroom. "Your aquatic adventure awaits, O Nymph of the Sea." He reached into the old-fashioned tub and turned on the attached shower.
Scotty began to undress, relaxing a little at the sight of the rising steam, at the little nick in the enamel he remembered from way back when. "See that?" he said suddenly to Kelly, pointing. "What does that look like?"
Kelly squinted at the discoloration through the steam. "Looks a little like the Lone Ranger on his trusty steed."
"Really?" Scotty turned to Kelly, his voice pitching a little higher. "I always saw it as a pirate ship, man."
"You're kidding me. Since when does a pirate ship have four legs?"
"Those are not legs, man, those are oars."
Kelly smiled tolerantly. "Ah, a spaceship?"
"With oars?"
It was nice to see that smug smile wiped right off Kelly's face. "You're the one who said oars, not me."
"Because it is a pirate ship, not a spaceship!"
"It is not, it is a horse, see?" Kelly pointed. "See the little stirrups?"
"Those aren't stirrups, that's the anchor… Ah," Scotty knew a lost cause when he saw it, "you gonna vacate this lil' ol' steam room here before the neighbors accuse us of holding a séance?"
"I shall withdraw," said Kelly, shaking a finger, "but let it be known that you, sir, blinked first."
"You just keep believing that."
Dinner was faintly surreal, at least to Scotty. Kelly kept Mom entertained with his patented charm, regaling the ladies with self-deprecating funny stories from the tennis circuit, and by the end of the meal, Jo had thawed too, smiling at him and laughing occasionally. His partner was so good that Scotty was the only one who noticed that Kelly wasn't really eating. He was hiding it real well, but he was surely in pain from that punch Scotty'd laid on him, and he chewed gingerly, favoring his sore jaw. Come to that, it had to be hurting him to be keeping up that broad, hey-gals-all's-right-with-the-world-never-fear-Kelly-Robinson's-here sunshine smile, but his partner sure didn't show it. Didn't show anything, really.
Not that he was in any position to cast the first stone, here.
"You're not eating, Kelly," Mom chastised him. Only she was sharper than he gave her credit for, because her eyes flitted to the mark on his jaw, and she said brightly, "I expect you to make up for it tomorrow!"
"Yes, ma'am." Kelly was the best agent the Department had; his smile didn't falter for an instant.
Mom wouldn't hear of them going back to the hotel, and in point of fact, Scotty wasn't really too keen on leaving them alone for this night, not after everything that had happened. He'd taken Mom aside and asked her, not without embarrassment, if either of the men had laid a finger on Jo; her response had reassured him as to his sister's virtue, but not so much as to her mental state.
So here he and Kelly were in his and Russell's old room, him in his familiar bed beneath the window, trying not to superimpose past on present, and across from him, breathing quietly, Kelly instead of his kid brother. That was one thing that never changed, and it was always good; Kelly in the bed across from him, there when he woke up. It was – safe. Reassuring.
He didn't want to think how close he'd come to blowing it, today.
"Nice room you got here, Duke," said Kelly into the darkness. With the shades drawn, it was pitch-black in the room, only the shape of the window outlined by the streetlight below. "You got any stains on the ceiling?"
Scotty smiled. "Used to, before we repainted. Mom was crazy about keeping the house nice." He visualized the stains for a moment. "We had an Indian tribe attacking a mountain, and…"
"A mountain?"
"That was what it looked like, man," Scotty said. "There were smoke signals coming from the back. We figured somebody had a beautiful princess hostage in back of the mountain, see."
"Ah, now it gets interesting."
"It would, to you."
"I'm not the one who was having pornographic fantasies about beautiful princesses at a tender age!"
"Who said anything about pornographic fantasies, really, you are the most—the most—"
"Unfair? Unjust? Unreasonable? Iniquitous?"
"Iniquitous?"
"You're not gonna tell me that's wrong, Mr. Linguist?"
"Not wrong," Scotty raised himself up on one elbow, turning to the place where Kelly should be, if he could see anything, "it is just that you were making up fantasies that are more in keeping with your own state of mind, see, than…"
He trailed off. He could almost see Kelly's sad, serious expression in the darkness, and the weight of his own regret fell like a pall over his light banter, silencing him. "Kel…"
"It's all right, man." Instant absolution, of course. Well, that could go hang.
"It's not all right…"
"Yeah, it is. We're cool, Herman."
"I don't—I didn't—"
"Don't worry about it. Really."
"I do worry about—"
"Willya forget it, Jack—"
"Kel, you can't just say that and—"
"What do you want me to do, Scotty!" Kelly snapped, his voice a little ragged, a little desperate. "It's not like there's anything I can do to make you trust me!"
Shocked, Scotty lay back against the pillows, his chest hurting as though from a physical blow. Whatever he'd expected – blame, anger, recrimination – he had not expected this. "I don't…" He swallowed. He hadn't – he didn't… "I never…"
"Don't lie to me, Scotty. It doesn't become you."
The resigned bitterness in that voice made Scotty sick. He'd heard it a few times in their career, and to be the cause of it was the one thing he'd never, never—he hadn't meant to— "I never meant for you to think that, man."
There was nothing but silence.
"Kel, it's not that I don't trust you."
There was a deep, resigned breath; when Kelly spoke, his tones were low, flat. "Scotty, you don't have to lie to me. I just don't know what I have to do – how to prove it to you…" A beat of silence. Scotty wished he could see Kelly's face, but he didn't need to see it to visualize the lines of bitterness, the closed-off expression in Kelly's face that was like a neon sign flashing, Alone Again. "I'm on your side, man. I'm not… not gonna switch sides on ya. I know you don't believe it, but I'm telling you it's true."
"I believe it," said Scotty in a rush. "I've always believed it."
The reality of what he had done lay between them, cold and hard and solid, and Kelly took a breath, after a moment. "Sure."
"It's not—" Scotty flung the covers aside, kneeling by Kelly's bed with desperate urgency. "It's not you. It's me."
"That's what all the boys say," Kelly quipped. Scotty supposed it was a reflex.
"Uh-huh." Scotty fumbled for Kelly's arm, found it. He gripped his forearm tight. "Kel—I trust you, you gotta believe me…" But he felt the reserve, the tension in Kelly's muscles under his hand, could sense it in every line of his body. Kelly didn't need to remind him of Hong Kong, didn't need to remind him of anything. It was all playing before him in Technicolor.
Kelly patted his hand comfortingly. "Scotty, really, don't worry about it…"
"No!" Scotty's hands fumbled up Kelly's arms, gripped his elbows. "Kel—I don't… It's…" He bit his lip. He hadn't thought it would be so hard. Maybe… "I couldn't ask you to betray your country for me, man."
"Screw my country," Kelly shrugged easily. "You're my country."
Speechless, Scotty let his hands fall away. He'd never—Kelly was as reserved about his feelings as he, Scotty, was, but the ease with which he pledged allegiance… There was nothing he could do to match that.
But he'd never been a quitter.
Kelly was still speaking. "…don't have to feel the same. I don't mind, honest. It's not easy to earn a man's trust, and I guess I didn't do all I should have, to—"
"Cut the jive, Kelly," Scotty snapped, grabbing Kelly's arms again. "If there's anyone I trust in this whole world it's you."
"Got a funny way of showin' it," Kelly blurted, then seemed to catch himself. "Sorry."
"Nope. I'm sorry. Shoulda said it before."
"You did."
"I did not."
"Yeah, you did!"
"No, I—"
Kelly cut him off. "What is this, kindergarten? You got nothing to apologize for."
"I punched you in the face!"
"I threw you through a screen door!"
"Oh, that's nice, we gonna dig through the history books—"
"Scotty, I'm tired and I want to go to sleep. I've had a long day."
"Well, that's too bad, because I'm not letting you just go off to sleep thinking I don't trust you!"
"Why is this so damned important to you?"
"Because it's true!"
"Okay." Kelly lay back, signaling the end of the conversation.
Angered now, Scotty climbed up off the floor, sitting on the edge of Kelly's bed. "Okay, okay my left hind leg, now you listen here. Just because I've got a…" He felt his face heat. "…a… a hang-up…"
Kelly said nothing, but he rose up on one elbow and laid a gentle hand on Scotty's arm. He couldn't see his partner's face, but Scotty could feel the change in the air: Kelly was definitely listening.
Scotty slumped. "I… Kel, I never…"
Kelly's hand smoothed up and down Scotty's arm. "All right. All right. You don't hafta say any—"
"Yeah, I do, just pipe down a minute, willya?" Scotty snapped. "I'm…" The confession left him in a rush, harder than he thought it would be, and easy as soon as it was out. "I'm not used to – depending on anyone."
"I can dig it." He could tell from Kelly's voice that he was sitting all the way up now; Kel's other hand had moved up to Scotty's shoulder. "I dig, man. I do. That's enough, now."
"No, no it's not." The dark, and the touch of his partner's hands, gave him courage. "I just—I'm the eldest, you know?"
"I do. I do." Kelly's voice was deep and soothing in the darkness.
"I'm… not used to having anyone to… to lean on."
There was a long silence, and he could feel Kelly's nod, feel the understanding shimmer and coalesce in the dark between them, suddenly warmer.
He turned to Kelly urgently, though he couldn't see his face. "Old habits, hard to break… you know what they say."
"I know," said Kelly slowly, slowly.
"I guess an old dog can learn new tricks, though, huh?"
"It is not outside the realm of possibility, indeed," Kelly's voice was soft, "or so I have heard tell."
"I trust you, Kel. I trust you to point a gun at me at point-blank range and miss. More 'n once."
Kelly swallowed, loud in the blackness of the room, and his hand fell away from where it had been rubbing Scotty's back. Scotty caught it, held it. "I don't mean…" Scotty said quickly. "You know what I mean."
"I think I do."
The pain in Kelly's voice hurt, bad. "Kel. When I'm – when I'm captured, I'm never worried, because I know, Kelly's gonna come for me. I know it, man."
He felt Kelly's surprise, felt the tension ease in the hand under his. "I know it. I do. I, I just gotta…" Huh. It came as a surprise to Scotty to realize that Kelly wasn't the only one with a neon sign flashing Alone Again. Only in his, Scotty's, case, it was Still, not Again. "…gotta get used to bein' part of a team, huh?"
Kelly patted his hand firmly. "And there's no such thing as 'your problem'."
Now it was Scotty who had to swallow. "Okay." He turned to where Kelly's voice was coming from. "Goes both ways."
"Always has. Know you'll be there to pick me up."
"You sound like you're at a singles bar."
"Not kidding," said Kelly sharply.
"Yeah. Yeah." Scotty nodded. "I know, I just… Me too, man, I know it, I just… Knowing it is one thing, you know, and doing it is…" No excuses. "It takes time, you know?"
"It's been four years." There was no accusation in Kelly's quiet voice.
"Yeah." Scotty gusted out a breath. "I'm, uh… not gonna pull anything like that again, okay?"
"Good to know." The impish smile in Kelly's voice was palpable. "I'd appreciate not having to save you from yourself before I save you from the bad guys."
"Save me? What say you, varlet, save me? I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of saving myself."
"Certainly you are. Certainly you are. But isn't it fun having your big strong partner to lean on?"
Scotty grinned. "Big and strong? You should know better than to throw me a straight line like that, man."
"Do not even think of maligning my physical prowess."
"For the record?"
"Huh?"
"Most fun I've ever had in my life."
There were times when Scotty really relished Kelly's silence. The tightening of his hand on Scotty's wrist told him all he needed to know. "Kinda having…" Kelly's voice was rough. "..the time of my life too, on this end, y'know."
"Sure didn't have any fun, today. You take any painkillers?"
Kelly shrugged. "Didn't really…"
Scotty slipped off the bed, fumbling in their emergency pack, locating the pills by feel. "You just hold still," he said, "and I shall procure a glass of water fit for a king."
"And sing me lullabies and tuck me in?"
"That is just like you, to make fun of the hand that feeds you."
"Feeds me, feeds me? Feeds me aspirin, and anyway, aren't I supposed to bite it?"
"This is not aspirin, this is ketoprofen, and don't sweat the small stuff." Scotty walked off in the dark, his steps sure.
"Don't you want the light on?"
"Light, what say you of light? The number of times I brought a glass of water to that bed over there, I could do it in my sleep."
Kelly's voice was entirely too knowing. "I see."
"No, you do not, but I shall."
"Not unless you turn on the light."
"You do not need to turn on the light to see the light, Chseter, and see the light I definitely have."
"Get the aspirin, wiseguy."
"Ketoprofen."
"Whatever."
"Yeah," Scotty smiled as he went in search of a glass of water, "whatever."