The Balance of Silence (11 page)

Jerking awake with a gasp, Riv sat straight up in bed, shoving the sweaty sheet away from his body.

The sudden pounding on his door caused him to jump again.

“Riv, get your lazy ass out of bed.” Del’s annoyed voice made him think this wasn’t the first time she’d made the request, and his thoughts flipped back to his dream. “Don’t make me come in there after you. Hurry up, you’ve already missed breakfast.”

He groaned and swung his legs out of bed, resting there with his arms propped on his knees and his head in his hands for long enough that Del’s voice changed from impatient to worried.

“Riv? Are you okay?”

“M’fine, just slept like crap. I’ll be down in ten minutes.” He stood, stumbled the few steps to the bathroom his room shared with the one next door, and was pleased to find that Marc’s hair gel on the edge of the sink was the only trace of his presence. It wasn’t that he felt the need to avoid Marc. It wasn’t even that he really believed his friend was as jealous as he was acting since Ducks had come into the picture.

Marc did a damn good impression of it though. He just tried to disguise it as siding with Del, nagging Riv over his unfortunate ability to fall for men who ultimately didn’t want him.

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55

S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore

The shower was hot, hot enough that he was going to regret it later, but he let the water beat down on his head anyway. Nightmares had a way of staying with him, they always had, and the only real way he’d ever found to get rid of them was to lose himself in some mindless tangle of machinery. Now though, as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the shower, the only things that filled his head were the broken images in his dreams, and disconcertingly, flashes of Pryce.

Naked, spread out on the bed below him, panting, and when the same voice from his dream moaned his name, Riv’s hand curled around his cock and squeezed hard. The eroticism of the vision was more intense than any fantasy he’d ever spun, probably because he’d never bothered with the fine details before.

But he could feel the heat rising from Ducks’ skin, could smell him, was damn close to being able to taste him.

Obviously he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted Ducks, just how strong that desire—lust, his mind supplied helpfully—was, because his hand was moving rapidly, and not since he was an adolescent and doing the exact same thing in the exact same shower had he come that fast and that hard. It would have been embarrassing if there were anyone else there to see.

Knees somewhat shaky, Riv shoved himself away from the wall with one hand and reached for the soap with the other. “Shit,” he breathed softly. Maybe he should listen to Marc, pretend to believe in the jealous fussing, because if this was any sign, he was addicted to Ducks. And if things didn’t work out, he was in for a particularly nasty fall. Scrubbing the soap across his belly, he couldn’t hold back a shudder as he brushed overly sensitive skin, and he gave himself a minute to recover, letting the water pour down over him.

He forced himself out of the shower and found a pair of cutoffs in his bag, pulling a loose button-down shirt on over them and leaving it open. There was no helping his hair, so he ran a hand through it and left it, clattering down the stairs with his worn-out pair of sandals clutched in one hand and his towel over his shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” Bin said in an alarmingly cheerful voice. Riv’s mother kissed him on the cheek and pushed a piece of toast into his hand, slathered in honey and cinnamon.

“Yeah, well, I meant to say that you guys could go ahead, and I’d get Ducks and meet you there.”

“Which is great, except that none of us knows how to get there,” Marc pointed out dryly.

“Oh, I can take you,” his mum said, smiling brightly as she put the last of the breakfast dishes into the washer and cranked it on. She’d been young when she had him, and only in the last few years had she developed any lines to indicate that she was his mother, not his sister. There was a streak of grey in her dark hair, but even that only looked eccentric, not aged. “I haven’t got anyone but you folks for the next week or so, so it’s like a holiday for me too. I haven’t had the chance to sit on the beach and read in ages.”

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The Balance of Silence

“Thanks, Ma, that would be great. I won’t be far behind you.” Still feeling more than slightly off-kilter, he shoved half the piece of toast into his mouth, catching a drip of honey with his tongue. Hopefully he wouldn’t be far behind them. Unless he could grab a repeat of that dream…

“Thought I was going to have to come in after you,” Del grumbled in his ear, swatting him on the arm under the cover of the counter.

Riv jumped and turned, giving her a guilty grin. “I’m a sound sleeper, what can I say.”

“I’m nervous enough about all this. I know you’ve got…got expectations.” She stumbled over the word, and then snorted. “And then you want to go and sleep all day, drag everything out.”

Instantly contrite, he squeezed her hand. “No expectations, I promise. Just a nice day on the beach.

And you get to meet Pryce. That’s it.”

“You say that now,” she muttered morosely. “We’ll see what really happens.”

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No need to ask for directions this time, and he tapped on Ducks’ door, fairly bouncing on his toes.

The door flew open.
I didn’t think you were coming.
Ducks pointed to his board accusingly, free hand on his hip.

Riv groaned. “Not you too? Del’s already laid into me this morning about being late.” Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the doorframe. “I can’t catch a break.”

The kiss was apologetic. Well, and damn hot, even with his spine smashed uncomfortably against the doorjamb.

“Get a room.”

The wolf-whistle from the lounge area across the hall made them jump apart, and Ducks laughed, blushing.
I was just kidding. I thought maybe you’d forgotten your little meeting with the good doctor.

“Shit,” Riv exclaimed, horror-struck.

You did forget, didn’t you.
It was a statement rather than a question. Ducks snickered.
Oops?

“Maybe we could just pretend neither of us remembered, and go to the beach before he finds me?”

Nope.
He wasn’t even finished writing it when Riv heard someone coming down the hall whistling, and turned to see the old geezer in question making a beeline for him. He was glad he’d at least buttoned his shirt before getting on the tram, even if he wasn’t exactly in his best outfit.

“Ah, good morning. I see you’re dressed for the weather.” The appraising glance that passed over Riv, and by extension his arm around Ducks, wasn’t exactly approving. “Come along then, and we’ll get you out in the sunshine.”

Ducks pulled himself away, scribbling a quick message to hold up before he waved.
Have fun.

Fun had to be pretty much the last thing on his mind right now. No, tops would be a swift escape, but it didn’t seem likely. He realized he was scowling, and struggled to mold his face into something a little more neutral.

“My office is just over in the other wing, won’t take us a minute to get there. You have plans for today, Mr. Vickrishan?” He paused expectantly.

“Uh, Riv. Just Riv. And yeah, we’re going to the beach.”

“Of course. I wasn’t sure if you wanted something more formal.”

The Balance of Silence

Should he have gone for something more formal than his nickname? Would it have made the man keep his distance a little more? Riv winced when Terrell took his elbow, steering him through the door to the courtyard. Definitely should have gone for formal.

“Perhaps you can begin by telling me why you were on Maltana. I believe I heard something about a charity organization.”

The slightly condescending tone made Riv bite his tongue. In the most basic sense ReliefCorp might be considered a charity—they donated their time. But they were a little more than the doctor seemed to be implying. They weren’t just handing out coffee and doughnuts. They were saving lives. “I was with ReliefCorp,” he said stiffly. “Delivering medications into the guerrilla-controlled areas.”

“So, similar to what Pryce was doing.”

Riv nodded. “Except that he has more medical training than me. I was just making deliveries. I think he was actually treating people, at least on a triage kind of basis.”

“I see. And so you weren’t able to assess his condition when you first met him?”

“I’ve got basic diagnostic and first-aid training. He wasn’t in immediate physical distress when I found him. Anything else…” Riv shifted uncomfortably as the doctor opened a door into his office, waving him inside. “I could tell he was obviously recovering from a trauma, and that he needed help, but I’m not a therapist.”

“Chocolate drop?” The old man held out a small bowl, taking one himself when Riv declined. “So you felt compelled to help him?”

“I wasn’t going to just leave him there to play piano in the middle of the jungle. He couldn’t speak, he froze if anyone touched him…he needed help.” Riv settled himself on the edge of a leather chair, glancing at the couch under the window with barely hidden disdain. He looked back at Dr. Terrell, who seemed to be smiling at him.

“And now? Do you feel the need to spirit him away from our facility?”

“If you consider a day at the beach spiriting him away.” It was hard to keep the sarcastic annoyance out of his voice, so he didn’t bother. “I was going to throw a disguise on him, maybe a wild shirt or something, pair of sunglasses, and sneak him out the main gate right under your noses.”

Dr. Terrell nodded knowingly, as if he’d just proven a point, and Riv gritted his teeth.

“You don’t care for me, do you?”

“Don’t take it personally, Doc, it’s not just you.”

He smiled, taking a seat behind his desk. Steepling his fingers, he leaned forward. “Your last name isn’t particularly common, and I happen to know a Dr. Timon Vickrishan. He used to be the lead psychiatrist for the children’s ward here, in fact. He wouldn’t have something to do with your aversion to those of my specialty, would he?”

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S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore

Riv’s smile was decidedly less humorous. “He’s my father, and yes, he does. I’ve got no problem with somebody experienced cutting into me physically. I just prefer that they stay out of my mind.”

“And you think that should apply to Pryce as well?”

The man was trying to corner him with the conversation, trap him into saying something stupid, another one of those fucking head games these people were famous for. “That’s not what I said,” he ground out through a tight smile. “But now that you mention it, I have to question how much good it’s done, him being here. He’s no better than he was when I left him, the only difference I can see is you’ve given him something to write on. Not exactly a cure.”

“No, not exactly a cure. But he’s communicating now. You do see that that’s an improvement, don’t you?” The condescending tone managed to grate on Riv’s nerves even more. “Tell me what he was like when you left him, why don’t you? Was he communicating with you at all?”

Riv unwillingly thought back on that separation. An emergency medical transport had taken Ducks off Maltana. There had been no room for him to go along, and the look on Ducks’ face as the paramedics gently herded him aboard had been one of sheer panic. But completely silent panic.

“Some. What he really needed to.” Hopefully he didn’t sound as defensive as he was afraid he did.

“Then perhaps,” Dr. Terrell said gently, “you’ll allow that it has done him some good after all, being here.”

Riv looked down at his hands, brushing his thumbs together, round and round as he tried to clear his head. “It’s not that I don’t think he’s being helped here. It’s more that I wish I could have helped him more.” Before he was even finished, he regretted saying it.

“You’ve just admitted that you had only field training, and that you knew enough to see that he was beyond your reach. It sounds to me as though you did the best thing possible by getting him to a treatment facility that could break through to him. Surely you see the difference between someone who wants to communicate and the man you rescued, who only made the attempt when he absolutely had to.”

“I do.” There wasn’t anything else he could say, so he sat there uncomfortably, waiting for the doctor to get on with it or let him go.

“Do you still think you can rescue him, Riv? Because I have to wonder if the attraction between you is based on who you see now, or on some lingering desire to finish saving him. If that’s the case, then I don’t feel I’m overstepping the bounds of professionalism to ask that you leave him here and not contact him again.”

“That’s not it at all,” he snapped, stung. Surely that wasn’t what this head-poking quack thought, that he was here riding on some ego-boosting trip. “As I’m sure you can agree as a
professional
, communication, or lack thereof, isn’t what makes a person.” Riv scowled. “Pryce is Pryce, whether he talks or not.”

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The Balance of Silence

If the doctor was taken aback at his vehemence, he hid it well. “You resent the implication that your motives, conscious or not, are anything but pure?”

“And you wouldn’t?”

He smiled, nodding slightly. “Perhaps. But that’s not the case here. I’m the doctor, and my patients are my responsibility. Their well-being can be my only motive, I’m bound by oaths.”

Riv snorted. “Yeah, and you guys never break oaths,” he muttered. Sighing, he stilled his hands in his lap with an effort. “Look, I cared about Pryce then, I care about him now. And if he lets me, I’ll care about him ten years from now. But that’s between me and him, not you.”

The bland expression that met his scowl was disconcerting. Nothing ruffled the man. Riv shoved himself out of the chair. “I think we’re done, aren’t we? You’re sure I’m here to satisfy some white-knight complex, right? And I’m not interested in having someone manipulate me until I don’t know which end is up. You’ve got my word that Pryce is the one who has the final say in any of this.”