This Other Country (2 page)

If only he could go back two weeks…

§ § §

Squeezy had a sister. Until two weeks ago, she’d had a teenage son. Eleven days ago, Jonathan had walked into a lecture room at college and shot three of his fellow students then turned the gun on himself—fatally. He’d been nineteen. The only clue to his motivation had been an email he’d sent his parents that morning. All it contained was the message:
I will leave darkness behind me.

After the initial confusion and shock had died down, the attack had been labelled a racist atrocity by the press. The three students he’d shot had been members of the university’s Islamic student council.

Jonathan’s links with far right organisations were being investigated, but Squeezy wasn’t convinced. He asserted Jono was one of life’s innocents—a gentle soul. Which had sounded odd coming from Squeezy, who wasn’t known for being a reflective observer of human nature. He had tried to tell the police this. His own background then came under suspicion. Being ex-army—ex-Special Forces—was a sure bet, apparently, for far-right sympathies. After all, the police reasoned, where did an otherwise normal nineteen-year-old boy get a gun?

Watching from the sidelines, Ben had been more than concerned. He’d undergone a very similar experience with the police investigating Nikolas’s disappearance in Denmark. While Squeezy wasn’t actually being probed by doctors with rubber gloves (or at least Ben hoped he wasn’t), he
was
being turned from victim into perpetrator, and that was a very unpleasant, soul-destroying experience.

A few days after the shooting, Ben had started following Squeezy. He had the thought that if Squeezy were accused of anything at least he’d have a witness now to back him up. He had been alarmed, therefore, to watch as Squeezy appeared to make a call on a therapist…a sex therapist…a gay couples’ sex therapist. Which was odd. Stranger still the visit had been at two in the morning, and Squeezy had used a side window for his appointment rather than the front door. Ben had circumvented the attempted burglary and had persuaded Squeezy to return to the London house.

§ § §

Being roused from bed at three in the morning, Nikolas wasn’t in the best of moods. He was even less impressed when he saw Ben’s split lip and black eye. He didn’t mention either, realising just in time Ben wouldn’t appreciate being made to account for himself as if he were a teenager coming home from a pub fight. He listened patiently to Squeezy’s profane and rambling explanation, which distilled into the fact he’d known his nephew was gay—something the boy hadn’t told his parents. Squeezy had also known Jono had been seeing the therapist for some months, with a view to being helped deal with his feelings and to come out to his family.

Squeezy was convinced the boy’s terrible act that day in the halls of learning and these doctor’s visits were linked. Nikolas was fairly sure if
he
were forced to visit a gay-sex therapist
he’d
be shooting things too. But not unrelated students, which he agreed was odd.

In reality, of course, he could see no connection at all and thought grief and possible guilt were unhinging Ben’s friend. Squeezy wasn’t the most stable person at the best of times.

Which was why he was not impressed when Ben told him they were making a visit themselves to Doctor Julian Wood.

Even when told the whole plan—they would pretend to be a couple having relationship difficulties and he’d get to be rude and imperious to Ben—he’d refused. After all, he got to be rude and imperious to Ben anyway. It wasn’t enough incentive. Then Ben had pointed out what they owed Squeezy. That had brought Nikolas up short. He was indebted. Besides his life, he owed him a broken arm and a few other damaged parts. Ben didn’t know about any of these additional incidents, however, so he’d agreed, whilst stating he was only doing it as some therapy might actually make Ben more appreciative…And this had gone the way of all other such pronouncements…

So Nikolas couldn’t say he was in a particularly bad mood in the waiting room preparing for their
therapy
. He reckoned both he and Ben had worked worse undercover operations in their time. After all, he was still undercover as his dead twin brother. Life was full of amusing ironies when you looked for them.

The waiting room had magazines with pop culture articles on relationships, which he pondered with great interest, whilst at the same time indulging his favourite pastime of studying Ben. Therefore, he could memorise helpful advice—such as:
“when discussing a problem, it’s helpful not to assign blame,”
or
“when you look very closely, most conflict often has little to do with the actual issue being discussed, but more often than not, it has to do with a fight over power and control. It’s a fight over who is in charge”
—at the same time as thinking how good Ben looked in his torn jeans and one of
his
old T-shirts. They liked wearing each other’s clothes. What did that say about their relationship?

“What are you smiling about? You’re supposed to be angry and pissed off.” Ben nudged him to seriousness.

“Do we fight over who is in charge, Benjamin?”

Ben frowned. “No. I have you exactly where I want you.”

Nikolas chuckled and turned the page. “Do we look suitably pissed with each other? I think you appear too much in love to convince the good doctor of our sincerity.”

Ben huffed and replied in an undertone, “I think you’re confusing love with total exhaustion. Eight years, Nikolas. It’s a
very
long time to know you.”

Nikolas tossed the magazine away with a comment in Russian he knew Ben wouldn’t understand and picked up a newspaper. After a few minutes, Ben snorted. Nikolas sighed. “What?”

“You can’t read that without your glasses. Stop pretending.”

Nikolas pouted and chucked it onto the table. “You do know this is a complete waste of time, yes?”

Ben slunk down a little further in his chair. “Yeah, I know. Squeezy’s totally clutching at straws. But it’s better than having him break in. We’ll see if there’s anything hinky with this—”

“Hinky?”

“—It’s a word—with this doctor bloke, and then Squeezy’ll just have to accept it.”

“The boy was probably confused and depressed, and watched too many American TV shows. It was a cry for help in a way. I suppose if you were gay you might be making quite a number of those.”

Ben glanced over at him, frowning for a moment, but before he could comment on Nikolas’s assertion they heard the handle to the adjoining door being turned and he sat up straighter. They didn’t risk a glance at each other, slipping seamlessly into their roles.

Nikolas knew they skirted close enough to the truth to make their proposed fiction plausible.

Game on.

CHAPTER TWO

Back from the therapist, therefore, wishing he could go back two weeks and not be roused from a very pleasant sleep, Nikolas waited until Ben had finished making the tea and had placed the four mugs on the table. He gave Squeezy a quick glance and asked neutrally, “Tell me again what your nephew wrote in his email.”

“Some fucking apology about leaving nothing but darkness behind him—which he fucking has done to his mum. She’ll never get over this.”

Nikolas nodded. “That’s what I would have thought it meant too, and what I believe the police have assumed. So it struck me as odd, therefore, the doctor had a picture on the wall of himself with a group of friends and one of them was wearing a T-shirt that boasted: ‘Leave The Darkness’. I believe your nephew wasn’t admitting the effect his actions would have on everyone, apologising, as you say, but announcing he was obeying some kind of imperative.”

“Fucking—”

Nikolas laid a hand on Squeezy’s arm. “Sit down.”

“I knew that fucking doctor did something to Jono’s head! Messed him up! The fucker—” He shook Nikolas’s hand off and went out into the tiny courtyard garden, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched.

Tim stood up, watching him. “You should have let him break in and get the files! He’s been right all this time.”

Nikolas glanced over at Ben. “We have created a monster. Where is your professor of ethics, Benjamin?”

Tim ground his teeth in obvious frustration and pointed at Nikolas. “This isn’t funny! I don’t remember you being too concerned about behaving ethically when you thought I was a fucking terrorist!”

For the first time Nikolas understood exactly how Tim felt about Michael—he’d answered back and sworn at him. It was so unthinkable Nikolas was at a loss for words.

Ben hastily intervened. “We don’t need to break in, Tim. Kate will hack the files for us now that we’ve confirmed the doctor’s involvement.”

Tim nodded, looking as if he was on the verge of apologising, but he scrunched up his face instead and went out to Michael.

Ben apologised on his friend’s behalf. “I think he’s in love.”

Nikolas didn’t like talking about people in love, even other people—and especially not men—so he changed the subject swiftly. “I’ll call Kate.”

§ § §

After some more tea, which was always needed in a crisis, Ben had been able to calm Squeezy down. Kate would find out what the doctor had written about the sessions with Jono. They just had to be patient.

Ben waited until the other two left, eyeing Nikolas as he peered hopefully into the fridge. He stood, coming closer bit by bit until he was pressed against Nikolas’s backside. He murmured slyly into the back of his neck, “So, afraid you weren’t going to get laid tonight, huh?”

Nikolas turned and smiled smugly. “Not really, no. I was acting. I’ve not had to worry about getting laid—such delightful expressions I learn from you—since I first met you.”

“Is that so? I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. Maybe I’ll punish you for that sulky little boy comment.” He pushed Nikolas back into a chair and very purposefully straddled his strong thighs. He kissed him, easing his tongue in, finding Nikolas’s. Ben groaned with pleasure. “On the other hand, I think you’re forgiven.”

Nikolas slid his hands into the back of Ben’s waistband, cool palms to warm skin, making Ben shiver with repressed desire. “Benjamin Rider-Mikkelsen, did you go to the doctor with no underwear on?”

Ben kissed him again, feeling their arousal swell between them, almost one body, one reaction. “Yes, Nikolas Mikkelsen, I did. I wanted to get into character.”

“Lucky Character. Did he enjoy you?”

“Everyone does.”

“Perhaps I should try you out. See what I’m missing.”

Ben chuckled. “There’s not one spot on my body you’ve missed. But feel free to explore as much as you like.” Nikolas suddenly stood up, Ben still on him. He’d obviously meant to keep him there and carry him but instead doubled over and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, much to Ben’s amused derision.

“Fucking hell, you’re heavy.”

Ben smirked. “Old man. Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs. Careful! That first step’s the killer.”

§ § §

“Why are we as we are, Benjamin? Do you ever wonder?” Nikolas lay with his head on Ben’s belly, his hair being stroked. He twisted around to look at Ben when he got no response.

Ben was frowning. “What do you mean? Gay?”

“I’m not…no, what I mean is, why do we not need what that doctor offers? Why do we…work?”

Ben lifted his head and stared at him. The pause went on for an unnatural length of time until Nikolas shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

Ben shook himself. “You? Introspection? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“You’re very harsh, Benjamin. I think about a lot of things very deeply as you know.”

Ben began to laugh. “Oh, yeah, you spend hours and hours thinking about me and our relationship.”

Nikolas folded his arms, his air of injured martyrdom slightly ruined by the huge erection jutting up from his lean body. Ben pushed it flat to his ridged belly and lay on top of Nikolas, propped up on his elbows, studying him. “Maybe it’s because we
don’t
do the thinking thing we work so well.”

Nikolas wasn’t particularly mollified by this suggestion. “We’re only together because we don’t think about it too much? I’m gratified and flattered by your devotion.”

Ben sighed. “When was the last time you thought about breathing?”

“What?”

“Breathing? Lungs in and out? Air? When did you last think about it? You’re like breathing. I don’t think about it, but I need it to stay alive.”

A faint smile came to Nikolas’s lips. “Then you’re like a heartbeat. I’ll miss you when you stop.”

Ben laughed then sobered slightly, trailing a finger around one of Nikolas’s nipples. “You did think I’d stopped. When I was in that coffin. Did you miss me then? You’ve never really told me.”

Nikolas raised his head a little to look at him then lowered it again, staring at the ceiling. “I haven’t told you, because I have no words for it.” He snagged his fingers into Ben’s hair and tugged him down for a kiss. Around the kissing, he murmured, “You know I’ve begun to dream, yes? That I don’t sleep well now.”

Ben nodded, clearly only intent on the taste and feel of his lips and tongue.

“Well, I dream of you every night. Over forty years of no dreams, and they turned on like a switch in my head after I watched you burn in the fire. Perhaps that says more than words.”

Ben lifted up and cupped his face. “Didn’t watch
me
burn. I’m right here, Nik.”

Nikolas nodded and wrapped his arms around Ben, kissing his shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of Ben’s warm neck. He never talked about the time he thought he’d lost Ben, because this is what always happened when he tried. He swallowed and raised his eyes, biting his lip for control.

With the intuitive knowledge of Nikolas Ben apparently had, he didn’t try to comfort him or get him to talk more, he just slid back and took him in. Nikolas gasped. Ben sat up, dug his fingers painfully into his hard stomach and began to ride him. Nikolas arched, nightmares of losing Ben forgotten in the extreme pleasure of having him here in the bed with him. He twisted, rolled them, re-entered, lifting Ben’s thigh and gaining better access. He felt a trickle of moisture on his cheek, a residue of the grief he couldn’t articulate and pressed his face to Ben’s chest, hearing the heartbeat as he jerked, bringing his thrusts in time with that steady, strong and reassuring sound.