"Get down from there!"
"Come up and get me," Dean called.
"I said get down before you fall, you idiot!"
"And I said, come up and get me. What's the matter, you scared of heights?"
"Jump!" another voice called gleefully.
"Enough, Walker, this is serious."
"What's the matter, Novak?" Walker jeered. "Worried your boyfriend might fall down and get a booboo?"
"I'll give him a booboo," Novak snarled. There was a loud, metallic bang as the MP smacked his club against the tower. "I am five seconds from shooting you down from there, Private. Get down! Now!"
Private Dean Winchester sighed and started climbing down. "You know, you really are a douche, Novak," he complained. "Guy can't even get naked on base and climb a radio tower to celebrate the big two-two?"
"Climb faster," Walker ordered. "I want your ass down on the ground in the next twenty seconds."
"Well, that would be kind of uncomfortable, seeing as how it's gravel down there," Dean noted. He continued to make his way down the tower.
"It might be a bit more comfortable than my foot?" Novak asked.
"At least it would be a change," Dean grumbled. Secretly, he was sorry he'd climbed so high. It was difficult to climb down without seeing just how high up he was. He swallowed hard, carefully inching his way down even as he forced his voice to remain calm. "I swear, Novak, you have had your foot up my ass since I got transferred out here."
"Oh, do tell about what he's had up your ass, Winchester?" Walker sang.
"Oh, shut up, Walker. Winchester, I would like to point out that I am not the one drunk, naked, and up a radio tower at 0200." Now that Dean was almost on the ground, Novak was considerably calmer. "Do you have any idea how much paperwork I would have to fill out if you fell and broke your neck?"
"My heart bleeds for you."
"His ass bleeds for you, now get down here!" Dean was still a few steps from the ground, but apparently the MP wasn't willing to wait for him to finish. A hand closed around his ankle in an iron grip. It yanked, dragging the startled soldier off of the tower to land roughly on the ground. Dean yelped, the gravel digging into his unprotected skin. Then he yelped again when he found himself shoved face-first into that same gravel. "Hey, watch it!"
"While that was absolutely uncalled for, you're so drunk that I'm surprised you can even feel anything," Novak growled. He'd shoved Walker away and was busy cuffing Dean as cheers and applause broke out. Apparently, they had attracted a crowd. Dean grinned and waved a cuffed hand, ignoring the fact he was being dragged to his feet and frogmarched away. "Why would you do this?" Novak continued to complain. "Why tonight of all nights? You know the Colonel is going to be furious."
Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "We're seriously going to wake up the base commander because I got drunk and climbed a radio tower on my birthday? I knew you were a killjoy and a suckass, Novak, but this is pretty extreme even for you."
"Like he said, we're not the ones who were drunk, naked, and up a radio tower at 0200," Walker said. By now, the MPs had managed to shove the drunken private into their office. Forcing Dean into one of the cells, he made a spinning motion with his finger. "Turn around so I can uncuff you."
"Aw, Walker, I didn't know you cared," Dean cooed as he turned and presented his hands.
"I don't. I'm not a bleeding heart like Novak here, I just want my handcuffs back."
"I've got them," Novak sighed. His voice sounded disgusted, but his hands were quick to undo the cuffs. Then he stomped his way over to the supply closet, where he produced a set of sweats and some blankets. Stomping back to the cell, he threw the items through the bars and into Dean's face. "Get dressed. I'm sick of looking at your junk."
Dean caught the scrubs and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Don't be jealous."
"I assure you, I am not."
"Should have just let him freeze his nuts off," Walker declared. "Might have made him think twice about letting 'em all hang out in public."
Dean scowled at him and pulled on the sweatpants.
Novak turned his back on Dean and pulled out his phone. "Colonel Winchester's quarters, please. Yes, I know what time it is. Trust me, he'll want to know this now."
"Fuck you, Novak!" Dean spat, good humor gone. "You piece of shit, you didn't have to call him now."
"Oooh, Novak, honeymoon's over," Walker crooned.
Novak casually held up his middle finger over his shoulder, his attention on the phone. "Colonel, this is MP Novak. I've just arrested your son again. Yes, he's here in the cell. Well sir, he was drunk, and apparently decided to strip and climb the radio tower. Yes, sir. No, sir. Of course, sir."
"Well, Novak, you can stay here with him while he dries out," Walker ordered. "Since this asshole's the only one here, I'm going back on patrol. I'll let you two lovebirds alone." And with that, Walker strolled out.
"Just me and you," Novak sighed. "Perfect end to an absolutely perfect day."
"Fuck you, Novak," Dean grumbled. He'd already climbed into the scratchy, over-washed sweats.
"Here."
Dean looked and saw Novak handing a mug through the bars. Dean took it and gratefully gulped the coffee. "Thanks, man," he said, giving the mug back. "Doesn't make up for you calling Daddy on me, but at least you're not a total dick."
"You could have been killed," Novak pointed out. "Besides, we were ordered to call the base commander directly next time you were arrested." He sighed and shook his head. "You do not seem to realize just how much trouble you're in, Winchester. Last time was the last time. This time, they'll throw the book at you."
Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "I vaguely recall something about that. I wasn't really listening."
"And that's your problem," Novak insisted. "You never listen, and now it's going to cost you. We're talking court martial, Winchester."
"Oh." Dean sighed and stretched out on the bunk in the cell. He was still very drunk. Until now, he'd been enjoying the sensation. Now, though, he just felt sick. His head was still spinning. He wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't throw up before much longer. No wonder they used cheap sweats. He groaned, threw an arm over his eyes to block out the light, and promptly passed out.
Blinding light stabbed Dean through his closed eyes, going directly into his brain. He made a pained noise and rolled onto his side. His stomach failed to follow the movement and protested angrily. Dean barely managed to make it to the stainless steel toilet before his stomach revolted altogether and purged itself of everything in it. Even when he was sure it was empty, it continued to heave, letting him know in no uncertain terms how much it disagreed with the amount of alcohol he'd dumped into it last night. Eventually, the dry heaves finally stopped. Dean got up and managed to walk to the sink without falling. He scooped up water with his hands and rinsed out his mouth, spitting into the sink. Splashing more water over his face, Dean stood up and blinked at his blurry reflection in the mirror. The sun streaming in through the barred window once again stabbed at his brain. Dean hadn't been this hungover since he'd managed to somehow graduate military school. That was the night he and his friends had broken into the groundskeeper's storage shed at the academy and he'd taken the riding lawnmower for a spin. Later, he'd learned that he'd destroyed a hedge, plowed through a flower bed, and eventually ended up riding the mower into the lake after he'd passed out at the wheel. He'd been told he would have drowned if his friends hadn't dragged him back out. Dean grimaced. That was the last time he'd seen any of his friends from military school. His father had been…
Dean frowned. He glanced again at the window. It was daylight. Dean was sure Colonel John Winchester would have been able to rouse him, no matter how deep in alcoholic slumber Dean had been last night. That meant that his father either hadn't felt the need to wake Dean, or…
Dean moved to the front of the cell and peered out through the bars. "Guard?" he called.
One of the MPs on duty came back. She was a cute girl Dean had dated for a short time before she'd caught him cheating. Now she scowled at him through the bars. "What the hell do you want, Winchester?"
"Did my father come here last night?"
"No," she told him curtly. "He didn't stop by this morning, either. Nor did he call, or send you flowers, or anything else. He's as done with your shit as I am. Now shut up and relax. You missed breakfast, and it's another hour before lunch."
"Lunch?" Dean echoed, confused. "I'm not going to be in here through lunch."
"Actually, yes you are." She seemed smug now. "Your freckled face is staying right behind those bars until your hearing. Which won't happen until Tuesday. And today is…?" She made a show of looking at the calendar. "Oh! It's only Friday? Well, TGIF, we're all working for the weekend, right?"
"Tuesday?" Dean sputtered. "I'm stuck in here for four days? That's crazy!"
"What's crazy is how many likes the pictures of your naked ass up on that radio tower got on my Facebook page." She'd pulled her phone and proudly displayed the post to Dean. "See? 'Idiot Ex-boyfriend Soldier Plays King Kong' is trending!"
"Oh," Dean replied, not knowing what else to say.
She chuckled and put her phone down. "You're a bastard, Winchester, and you always will be, but at least you're good-looking."
"Thanks," Dean grumbled. "When's Novak coming in?"
"Sorry, but your boyfriend has today off," she informed him. "He seemed to think he was getting some sort of big promotion, so he took off today to have a three day weekend to celebrate and pack his bags. He won't be back until Monday and no one else wants to talk to you, so shut up."
"I'm not shutting up," Dean protested. "There's no reason to keep me locked up over the weekend. I'm not dangerous, I was just drunk and stupid."
"And you pissed off daddy once too often." She'd moved to the desk and sank into the chair, putting her feet up on the desk. "Turns out, when the Colonel says to leave his delinquent son to rot in a cell to drive home the fact that he's officially burned all his bridges? People listen." She turned her back on him. "Get comfortable, asshole," she called cheerfully over her shoulder. "You are going to exactly the same place as your life - nowhere."
The days went by in a slow, torturous crawl. To Dean's surprise, Novak never showed up to check on him. Until now, he hadn't realized that the MP always had, even on the weekends when he was off. He knew better than to ask anyone else why. Belatedly, he realized that something had been going on with Novak Thursday night. Through his drunken haze, Dean could belatedly remember Novak saying something about "tonight of all nights." Well shit. Novak was an asshole, but Dean really wished he'd been a little less drunk and a lot more observant. Well, he'd have to ask Novak about it when he rolled in for his usual night shift on Monday. But in the meantime, no one else spoke to him any more than necessary. The disregard was more than a little dehumanizing. Dean watched the dust motes turning lazily in the air and gave serious consideration to banging his head against the rails. By the time Monday finally rolled around, Dean was ready to drop his pants and start singing about pudding.
When Novak came in for the evening shift and all but collapsed into the chair behind the desk without even a glance at him, Dean groaned. "Oh, someone please just shoot me now?" he begged. "Bad enough I'm going crazy in this cell. Now I have to deal with you in some kind of mood?"
Novak didn't answer. He slumped in the chair, his eyes fixed on nothing. That got through even to Dean. Dean frowned, sitting up on his bunk to eye the MP through the bars. "Um, Novak? You alright, man?"
"I'm afraid I am very far from alright."
Dean waited, but after a moment, it became clear that Novak wasn't saying anything else.
Walker ambled in. He looked around, saw every cell empty except for Dean's, and grinned. "Well, Novak, looks like it's just you and your boyfriend in here," he announced. "You two have fun now. Radio me if you need anything, but don't radio me for anything." Without another word, he turned around and sauntered back out. Meanwhile, if Novak heard a word he said, he gave no indication. He simply stayed as he was, slumped dejectedly in his chair.
Dean frowned at this. "Isn't it against regulations for him to constantly ditch you?" he asked. "That guy is probably the worst MP ever. Why'd he get paired with you, when you're so by the book? You should turn his ass in."
No response from the silent MP. Dean frowned. He got up and moved to the bars, his eyes on the silent figure sitting slumped at the desk. "Hey," he began, feeling awkward. "I know that we've never gotten along. You've got no reason to want to talk to me now. I get that, sure. But at the same time, I'm literally a captive audience." He shook the bars a little, hoping to make a sound to punctuate his words, but they were set tight and didn't move. He shook his head. "My point is, if you need to talk? I've got nothing but time and nothing else to do but listen. Come on, man, what's going on with you lately?"
Novak turned to regard him thoughtfully. "You think I should talk to you?"
Dean shrugged. "Sure, no one else is here, so why not?"
"Why not." Novak steepled his fingers and tapped them on his chin, blue eyes thoughtful. "My friend," he sneered the word. "Dean Winchester, the worst soldier on the base. You're literally the only person in the world who would even want to talk to me, so why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. How about because you're a complete and utter screw-up?"
Dean blinked. "Um… Sorry?" he offered.
Novak scoffed and turned back around. Rooting in the desk, he pulled out a bottle of what could only be whiskey. As Dean blinked in surprise, Novak opened it and took a long drink straight from the bottle. "Dude!" Dean exclaimed. "I have never seen you drink, not even at your own birthday party. Now you're chugging whisky straight?"
"Sure, why not?" Novak replied mockingly. He saluted Dean with the bottle and took another drink, grimacing at the burn.
"Ok, this is serious," Dean muttered, his eyes on the MP. Shaking his head, Dean went to his cot and dragged it closer to the bars. Sitting down on it, he faced Novak. "Talk to me."
"About what?"
"How about whatever the hell is making the most straight-up, regulations-following soldier on this base drink whisky straight from the bottle while on duty? I heard something about you taking Friday off because you were going to get a job somewhere," Dean tried. "What happened, you didn't get it?"
"What happened." Novak finally turned around in his chair, facing Dean. He put the bottle on a filing cabinet next to him and leaned toward the prisoner. "Tell me something, Winchester. Have you ever had to fight for anything in your whole life?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you were born with every advantage," Novak explained. "Your father is the base commander, a distinguished and respected man, a decorated war hero that everyone looks up to and admires. Your stepmom is a diplomat and travels all over the world. Your little brother, from what I've heard, is some kind of genius, four years younger than you and already in Stanford and well on his way to becoming some kind of hot shot lawyer. Your whole family is filled with poster children for success, but not you." He shook a finger at Dean. His eyes already looked glassy. "I read your file, Winchester. You were in the best preschool you could find, and you got kicked out of it in less than a month for fighting with the other kids. That was only the start. Every time, your dad would pull strings to get you into a good school, and you'd fuck it up by fighting, lying, cheating, stealing, you name it. Eventually, you got sent to military reform school, where by some miracle, you managed to graduate. You got arrested the night of your graduation, thrown in jail for what would have probably been the first of many times if your father hadn't bailed you out and somehow got the charges dropped so you could enlist. He even set everything up for you to have a good career in the military, but you?" He shook his head. "You pissed it all away, washing out of officer training, constantly getting into trouble, getting bounced from base to base with only your father's good name keeping you from either a dishonorable discharge or the stockades until you finally ended up here. Once again, your dad put his neck out for you, taking you on under his own command And what did you do? You took everything that man has done for you, and you threw it back in his face!"
Novak angrily tossed his hat onto his desk, revealing messy dark hair that was just at the point of needing a cut to be regulation, and stood up. He stormed over to the cell, making Dean lean back. "You're a fuck-up, Winchester," Novak accused, pointing angrily at him. "You have always been a fuck-up, and you'll always be a fuck-up. You're twenty-two years old and here you are again, behind bars, an embarrassment to your family and to the service. No wonder the colonel finally got tired of your bullshit and left you there. The man's a saint for putting up with you for this long. By all rights, you should be washed out, dumped into the streets, and left there to rot!"
"Harsh." Dean stayed as he was, still and silent, his eyes fixed on Novak's furious blues. "Ok, I'm a fuck-up. I'll own that. It doesn't tell me what's eating you tonight, though. Come on, neither one of us has anywhere to go right now, right? Sit down, leave that bottle sitting where it is, and talk to me."
Novak huffed, but sat back down. Dean was relieved when he made no move toward the bottle, but this was short-lived when Novak drew his pistol. Reaching into another cabinet, Novak produced a cleaning kit. He scooted closer to the cabinet and began to disassemble the weapon and clean it. "You're right about me, Winchester," he said absently. "All my life I've walked the line. I never had anyone to pull strings for me. My mother was a single mother. I spent a significant portion of my childhood living homeless in a tent behind whatever building we could find where the landlords wouldn't call the cops on us. Eventually, she decided I was old enough to care for myself and left me. I got picked up and put into foster care shortly after."
"Well, that sucks," Dean offered. He was still watching the pistol. While it was safe enough being cleaned, why would Novak choose to clean it now? Dean had an uncomfortable image of the MP getting drunk and shooting Dean. Dean couldn't blame him if he did. If their roles had been reversed, Dean could absolutely see himself shooting himself.
"Sucks, yes, it does," Novak went on, hands still busy cleaning.
Dean was still watching the pistol. "So, um, what made you decide to become an MP?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I imagine it does seem a bit odd," Novak agreed absently. "I suppose it seems corny to you, but I wanted to help people."
"That doesn't seem corny at all. Seems like a decent thing, and right up your alley."
Novak paused, looking hard at Dean. His eyes widened in surprise. "You're serious?"
"Of course I'm serious. A lot of the MPs, like Walker? Those assholes are only in it for the power trip, so they can lord it over the rest of us. But you?" He shrugged. "You're a stand-up guy." He indicated Novak's finger. "Hey, I just realized you've got a dent on that finger. Are you married?"
Novak paused again. "I'm not married," he explained sadly. "Not anymore. I was, for about thirteen months. We were trying for a baby, or I thought we were. It turns out that Amelia just didn't love me anymore." He shook his head. "I did everything I could for her. I tried to make her happy. She still left me for some loser just like you, all looks and attitude and no real substance, because she thought he was exciting. Exciting?" He scoffed. "I know for a fact he tomcatted around, but she didn't want to hear that. She divorced me, took half of everything I had. I still had myself somehow convinced that she'd come to her senses and come back. I didn't even fight, never even talked to a lawyer." He rubbed absently at the dent on his finger. "It's been three months since the divorce was official, but you're right. I was wearing a wedding ring once."
"Oh man," Dean groaned. "That's shitty. She's an idiot for leaving you, especially for someone like me." Dean indicated himself. "I get that I'm reasonably good-looking. I don't lack for company, but…"
"I'd say not." Novak frowned at him in disapproval. "Is there a single woman on this base that you didn't date, have sex with, and then dump for the next one?"
"Guilty as charged," Dean sighed. "Like I was saying, I'm good-looking enough, but all I am is a quick, fast lay. I'm not husband material and everyone knows that. You?" He pointed at the MP. "You're a good, honest, hard-working man, a man any woman should be proud to call her husband."
Novak looked at him for a long moment. His eyes went back to the bottle.
"Hey, what about friends?" Dean called quickly, not wanting the MP to start drinking again. "I never see you with anyone but that prick you're partnered with. Who are your friends?"
"I don't have any." Novak's eyes were off the bottle, but now they were back on his pistol. Finished cleaning it, he was putting it back together with practiced hands, fingers moving nimbly to push bullets into the magazine. "I have tried all my life to do the right thing, be the better man. I got bullied in school by guys like you because of that." He shook his finger at Dean. "Now, you are the closest thing I have to a friend. Isn't that something?"
Novak had loaded the weapon and was staring down at it in his hands. It made Dean more than a little nervous. "Um, I heard something about a job?"
"That happened the day you climbed that radio tower. I came onto the base with more hope in my heart than I have had in entirely too long because I had an interview for a top-secret position," Novak declared proudly. "It was a position that I worked my ass off for, beat out hundreds of other applicants for despite limited experience because my record is absolutely spotless. This was the position of a lifetime. It was my third interview and I was so excited, so sure I'd finally get my chance." He smiled. "All my hard work and dedication would finally pay off. Sure, they mentioned all the work I'd done. I'd gone above and beyond to prove myself a loyal, obedient soldier. I was exactly what they were looking for. They flat-out said as much, except…" The man seemed to deflate like a balloon. "Except I had no one I was close to. I have no family, no real friends. Nowhere in any of the materials I was given did it mention that I needed to have someone I was close to in order to be accepted, but that didn't matter. Thank you for your interest, but I'm afraid you aren't quite what we're looking for after all."
"Oh," Dean said stupidly. "Well, that sucks."
To his surprise, Novak burst out laughing. "Yes," he managed, "it does indeed suck, doesn't it? My one big chance, my last opportunity to finally make something of myself, gone because I don't have a BFF? Because no one cares about me? Because there is not a single person anywhere on this planet who could give two fucks if I live or die?"
"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" Dean complained.
That earned him a cocked eyebrow. "You are a troublemaker and I'm an MP. You're honestly trying to say that we're friends?"
"Well no, not really," Dean amended. "We're…" He stopped, considering. Part of him, a big part, did indeed want to claim that he and Novak were friends. That was absurd. Novak was right. They stood on opposite sides of a line. There was no way they could ever be friends. "We're sort of frenemies," Dean declared. "Maybe we don't invite each other over to watch the game together, but don't think no one cares about you."
Novak slapped the magazine into his pistol, the loud click this produced making Dean flinch. Wide, surprised blue eyes were staring hard at Dean. "You care about me? You honestly care about me?"
"Yeah," Dean said, anxiously eyeing the weapon. "Of all the people on this base, you're the only one who's ever halfway decent to me, no matter how many times I fuck up. So yeah. Yeah, I do, Novak."
Novak had an odd look on his face. "Jimmy."
"Huh?"
"Jimmy," Novak repeated. "It's my name."
"Oh. I'm Dean."
"Dean." Novak chuckled. "You know, I wish things had been different between us. Despite everything, I think I would have liked to have had you as a friend."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, nodding and giving the MP a smile. "Same. Even though we're way different, I think you and I might have had some good times."
Novak smiled back. "You know, it's a funny world," he mused. "I've been thinking for the past three days, trying to make a decision. Now, I think I've finally found the courage to do it."
"Do what?" Dean asked nervously, hoping the answer wouldn't be a bullet hole in his chest. Novak looked more than a little unstable right now.
"What I probably should have done months ago, when my ex-wife announced her engagement and I realized she wasn't coming back and I had nothing left," Novak replied. "Losing this opportunity just made it clear. I've got nothing. I'm done. Finished. Now, it's time to go."
"Go?" Dean echoed. "Wait, you're taking off?" While going AWOL had done more than cross Dean's mind any number of times, he'd never imagined Novak doing it. When the man nodded, he was flabbergasted.
"That I am," Novak confirmed. "And why not? All my life, I've only done things for others. It's time I finally did one thing for myself. I've been thinking for some time that I wanted out. No time like the present." He got to his feet, the pistol in his hand. "Dean, may I ask you a favor?"
"Um, sure?" Dean replied, his eyes on the pistol, waiting for it to come up and aim at him.
"Despite what you seem to think of yourself? You're a good man at heart. Remember that. When life defeats you and you finally hit bottom, don't get to the point where I am now," Novak said. "Don't do something like this."
Before Dean could say a word, Novak leveled the pistol at his own head and pulled the trigger.
