“Well youwereup until a second ago, right? Look, I don’t know much about your past other than you’re Eagle-eye’s girl so you’ve probably seen some shit. It was here, wasn’t it? Whatever drove you and your ma away.” His voice is unusually soft, soothing, like he knows I’m balancing on a precipice and the wrong word might send me over the edge.
He puts a hand on my back and rubs it in steady, firm circles. This is such a change from his usual jokes that it actually helps distract me. And right now I need all the distraction I can get.
I nod against him. “I try to forget.”
“Yeah. I know that feeling.” He nudges closer, the warmth of his leg reassuring next to mine.
“Fighting off pirates?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“Talk to me. Tell me anything. Keep my mind off this, because I don’t think I can do it on my own.”
“It was a landmine,” he says, no trace of humor in his voice.
“What?”
“Not pirates or globnarks. Not a fucking shark. A fucking landmine.”
“I thought… I don’t know. Something to do with club fighting.” Is that rude?
He shakes his head and raises the blunt end of his right arm. “It’s more fun to make up stories about something glorious and exciting, not just a dirty trap left by some fuckers who wanted to hurt people and didn’t care who got hit. And it was my job to disarm them, so I should’ve known better.” He sounds disappointed more than anything.
“I’m sorry.” It feels lame. Insufficient.
He scoffs. “Why? You didn’t do it. Wanna know the worst part? Took me three months before I managed to jerk off with Lefty.”
I sit up with a gasp and all the blood rushes to my head. “Are you serious?”
“More than you’ll ever know.” He grins, and winks. “Now if I’d only had someone around to…”
“Shut up! Now I don’t know if you’re joking or not.” I’m grateful for the distraction, but I wish I knew which Ripper was the real one, the joker or the serious man I just got a glimpse of.
“Do you care?” For a moment, his good hand stops the circles on my back, and he sounds genuinely surprised.
“Of course! You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to, but I just thought—it seemed like we were sharing. Sorry.” I press closer to him and he sighs.
Ripper’s soothing hand starts back up again. “There was a newbie in my squad. Fresh out of training. Fucking airhead just like everybody when they’re new. It’s easy to think you know everything before you get thrown out into the real world. First thing you’ve gotta know is that nothing ever goes right on deployment. We were poking for mines, going through a dirty field, more sand than anything, but it was right near civilian farms. Was our job to clear the way. He was jamming his stick into the dirt like he fucking wanted the mines to go off. When he bumped something hard, fuck, the look on his face? We both knew what it was. I’ve never dove so fast in my life, trying to drag that stupid fucker away as it went off. I swear I still hear the ringing at night when it’s quiet.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, putting my hand on his leg and hoping the touch gives him some of the same comfort he’s giving me.
“I knocked him down, and most of the blast went over us, but when I rolled off, I knew something was fucking wrong. It was the damnedest thing, I got up and tried to check on the kid, but there was fucking blood everywhere. At first I thought I’d been too late, but then suddenly people are shouting and he’s the one trying to fix me. I’d had my arm out, and the shrapnel ripped my whole fucking hand off. It was ugly as fuck. Luckily, the medic was there, or I’d have bled out.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble.
“Yeah. Jesus fucking Christ.” He sighs and rests his head against mine, his dark blond strands mixing with my auburn hair. His breath softly ruffles my hair. “After that, I was sent home, given an honorable discharge and tossed out into world without a fucking clue what I wanted to do, other than that I knew I could fix shit, I liked bikes and I had to make rent.”
“Is that where the pirate hunting came in?” I tease, marveling at how firm his thigh is.
“Yeah, I had to start small before fighting off the aliens. I was working at a garage and starting to dip my toes in some sketchy shit when someone recommended me to your dad. I can’t say he put me on the straight and narrow exactly, but being a prospect with the Screaming Eagles was the first time since my unit that I felt like I belonged somewhere. And five years later? Here I fucking am.” He eases back on the bench, taking me with him and resting my head on his chest.
That horrible cloud of endless terror is fading. It’s not like I’m not still scared out of my mind, but I think my lunch is safe in my stomach for now. I could probably even sit up without his arms around me if I wanted to, but I’d really prefer to stay here, to soak up his warmth and know someone’s here to watch over me.
“And you’re okay now?” I ask quietly. He’s been through more than me and I still hide in my closet.
“I try to keep distracted. Just get my mind off it when it feels like it’s going to be too much. Some days all I can fucking think about is blood and explosions, and those are usually the days someone ends up punching me.”
“I’m sorry.”