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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Can’t Be Really Gone
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major character death.
Word Count: 3,447
Summary: A gunfight goes wrong, leaving one standing and another dead.
Author’s note: This exists outside of cannon because there’s no way I could make this *real*. It was inspired by a prompt sharpiesgal left at comment-fic: survivor’s guilt. Two songs by Tim McGraw were running in the background of my brain while writing this: Can’t Be Really Gone and When She Wakes Up (And Finds Me Gone). If you know the first, you’ll know it inspired a bit near the end.
The sound of gunfire rang out into the night and he felt himself pushed roughly to the side. “No,” he shouted, watching as that familiar form stepped in front of him, blocking the danger. Watching helplessly as that warm body fell to the ground.
“No,” he screamed into the night. Dropping his firearm, he crawled to his partner’s side. His arms buckled at the sight of the blood pouring out of his chest, the sheer amount of it seemed impossible. “No,” he repeated, this time in a whisper. “No, you can’t die, not now. Not when we’ve just figured it all out.”
**
“It’s going to be okay,” Trish said, hugging Zayne harder than she’d planned.
“How,” he asked, voice breaking. “How the hell will anything ever be okay ever again?”
“I don’t know, Zayne,” Hilary said, wrapping herself around Zayne’s free side. “But it always is, even when you think it can’t.”
He didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, because how was it fair that someone like his partner had died and yet he was still alive? He was the asshole, the jerk, the one who slacked off at every opportunity. But Zeklos? That boy was a workhorse. He put everything he had into everything he did. Work, life, love. It was always all or nothing with that man and yet, he was still the one who’d lost his life.
It wasn’t fucking fair. And no, it was not ever going to be okay.
**
The paramedics hadn’t wanted him to ride in the ambulance, but Zayne didn’t give them any choice. “He’s my fucking partner,” he’d shouted at the brunette with the blue eyes so much like Zek’s. “I’m responsible for him and I failed. Please.”
In the end, they’d let him ride. And when their patient coded halfway to the hospital, Zayne had almost wished he hadn’t ridden along. Wished it was his body laying lifeless on the stretcher.
Looking back, Zayne figured they had to have known he wasn’t going to make it, that the ride was too long and they had too few resources to save him. As tough as it had been, holding Zeklos’ hand as the life left his body, Zayne never would have forgiven himself for being anywhere but by his side. It was his fault that they’d even been there, he deserved to suffer as his best friend in the world lost his life.
**
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” James said, resting a hand lightly on Zayne’s shoulder.
“I know,” he said, shrugging off the soothing gesture. He couldn’t bear the redhead’s touch, not since… “I’ll be there, I promise.”
He had to be there, Zeklos had no one else to represent him here in the states. No family, no one but the friends he’d made on the job. Even the friend that got him killed in the end.
“I need to contact his family,” Zayne said. “Zeklos’ will stated his house should be sold and the profits sent to his sister.”
“How the hell are you going to contact his family? None of them speak any English.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Zayne looked at James and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t –”
“You were doing your job, Zayne,” James said, brushing his overly long bangs away from his face, trying again to comfort the cowboy with a touch. “It was nothing more than lousy timing.”
“Bok,” Zayne said. “It’s how Zeklos always referred to bad luck. Sounds like it feels. Bok.”
**
Zayne sat in the emergency room waiting area staring at his phone. He needed to call somebody – everybody – but he couldn’t bring himself to dial. Who to call first? James? Hilary? Their captain? No, none of those felt right. When he finally dialed, he surprised himself with who his subconscious mind chose.
**
Although he was still living in Zeklos’ house, he hadn’t slept in the bed they’d shared since the last night they’d been home together. He couldn’t bring himself to lay in that bed knowing that the love of his life wasn’t ever coming home. However, he had stolen Zeklos’ pillow and cradled it against his body, covering it in his own desperate tears.
Rosewood had come by, just to check on Zayne, he’d said. But Zayne wasn’t convinced. He was pretty sure that the ginger was regretting never taking Zeklos up on the offer to move in. Now, it was too late and they’d never truly be all that they could have been.
“Fuck me,” Zayne muttered, reaching for a plain, white button up shirt. He hated dressing up, being formal and precise, but doing it for someone who couldn’t appreciate it any longer burnt his britches. His eyes snagged on a pastel orange dress shirt, one that Zeklos had bought for him on a whim one day. “It will look nice with your skin,” he’d said. And he’d been right. He’d worn it as often as he could get away with because it always got him an appraising look from both Zeklos and the redhead.
It wasn’t even close to appropriate for funeral wear, but Zayne didn’t give a damn, his dark suit jacket would cover most of it anyway. Tugging it off the hanger, he slipped it onto his body and began buttoning it up. It’d be the last time he ever wore it, because the thought of not seeing Zeklos’ eyes light up at the sight of him wearing it was too much to bear.
**
“Hello,” the voice said, but he couldn’t respond. “Zayne? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
“Dal,” he said, the knot in his throat keeping him from getting the words out.
“Oh god, Zayne, no. What happened?”
All he could do was cry.
**
“I was worried you wouldn’t show,” Hilary said, slipping her arm through Zayne’s. “I’m glad you didn’t bail.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Couldn’t.”
“If anyone would understand, it’d be Andy,” Trish added. “And that shirt’s a nice touch.”
Hilary looked at him and smiled. “It was always his favorite,” she said. “Not sure how he knew tangerine was your color, but he did.”
Despite the seriousness of their situation, Zayne laughed. “That damn hoodie,” he said. The one that James now claimed as his own. It had once been his. And it was as orange as could be. Zeklos had loved it so much he hadn’t given it back, but that had been okay with Zayne. Even though that had been long before he knew he was in love with Zek, he’d been flattered Zeklos wanted that piece of him forever.
“Ah, I remember that,” Hilary said. “It looked good on you.”
“Even better on Andy,” Trish said.
Zayne agreed. The memory overwhelmed him then – a drenched Zeklos huddled in Zayne’s much too large hoodie and he felt tears threaten again. “I’m not going to make it through today,” he said.
“We’re here for you, cowboy,” James said from behind. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of Zayne’s head and moved to Trish’s side. “We’re always here for you.”
**
Their mother had always referred to Dahlia as the ‘Zayne Whisperer’. When no one else could figure out his moods, she always knew. Tonight had been no different. Maybe it was his inability to vocalize, or maybe it was some motherly-slash-big sister sixth sense, but she knew almost immediately that his world had been thrown into chaos. She was the only reason he’d been able to make that call to Rosewood.
James had insisted on retrieving him from the hospital, wouldn’t take no for an answer either. From there, he’d driven them both back to his apartment and tucked Zayne into his bed. They’d cuddled and cried and eventually fallen into an uneasy sleep.
It was the first time since he’d been seven that Zayne had had a nightmare.
Being the trooper that he was, James had held him while he cried, cuddled him until he’d settled, watched over him as he slept. He owed the narco so much, but he’d never be able to repay him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I know he was our heart and soul,” James said as they lay in bed, the early morning light starting to peek through the curtains, “but I’m still here and I still care about you.”
“I know, man,” Zayne said, his grip on the ginger’s body tightening. “But it all seems so pointless now.”
Zeklos had been the only reason the three of them were together. What became of the two left behind?
**
Watching Zeklos being lowered into the ground was the hardest thing he’d ever had to see. And that included witnessing his last breaths days before. This seemed so much more final, there was no coming back from being buried in the ground.
There was no hope for Zayne’s shattered heart, his broken soul.
James looped an arm around Zayne’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Come on, cowboy, let’s go back to my place and get drunk off our asses.”
“I don’t think I’ve had a better offer lately,” he said. “Let me stop by – by the house. I need to grab something.”
“Meet me at my place,” James said. “And if you’re longer than half an hour, I’m coming for you.”
“I’ll be there, I promise.” Although he wasn’t really sure if he’d make it or not. There was a definite chance he might put his service pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger.
But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about that tonight. There were things he needed to take care of before he could put his mind to rest.
**
His first day back to work was the day after Zeklos’ funeral. Zayne would have given anything to be anywhere other than here, staring at his partner’s empty desk, wishing that he was simply held up in traffic.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Hilary said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Andy made his choice and his choice was to save you. Respect that.”
“I can’t,” Zayne said. “Not when he deserved to live more than I did.”
“He loved you,” she said. “And that was why he sacrificed himself for you.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” he yelled at her. “It makes it worse, actually, because he was a warm, loving, wonderful person and all I ever did was make his life a living hell.”
Their captain sent him home after that outburst. It was the worst possible thing anyone could have done, sending him back to that empty house. A big, beautiful building that used to be a home full of love and laughter. Now, just an empty shell, devoid of life.
Kind of like Zayne.
**
“What the hell did you have to stop and get,” James asked, letting Zayne into his apartment.
“This,” he said, holding up a dusty bottle that was much too familiar to them both. “I think Zek would appreciate us toasting him with his own moonshine.”
James gave him a sad smile. “He was the only one of us who could stomach this stuff, so I’m sure it’ll tickle his funny bone if he’s watching us right now.”
Zayne took the bottle into James’ kitchen and retrieved two glasses. He poured a small measure into each and carried them back into the living room. Handing one to James he held his aloft. “To Zeklos, the best friend and partner a man could ever have.”
“Also, the best boyfriend and companion,” James added. He touched the rim of his glass to the side of Zayne’s and took a swallow. Grimacing, he shook his head.
“I know, right,” Zayne said, frowning. “Not even this mind-numbing desolation can make this shit palatable.” But he lifted the glass to his lips and knocked it all back in one shot.
“But maybe it’ll erase the pain for a few hours,” James said, finishing off his own portion. “Another?”
“Please.”
**
Zayne wanted to attribute his irritation and bad mood to the hangover he had. He and the narco never should have started on that damn Romanian paint thinner the night before. Finishing off the bottle in Zeklos’ name had definitely been a stupid decision. It was too late now, they’d done their deed and were paying for it in spades.
In a lot of ways, it was probably good that he’d been sent home. He could rest, take some aspirin, maybe do a couple shots of tequila to ease the pain in his very being. God only knew it’d take more than that to find the courage to begin sorting through Zeklos’ things.
He’d sent a letter to Zeklos’ sister in Romania. He’d written it out in English, then copied and pasted into Google translate, praying that it was at least somewhat accurate. It had taken him three tries to get it into the mailbox at the post office, his fingers reluctant to let it go, to make it even more real. At least Alina had her brothers, Tobar and Marku, to help her through her loss. Zayne felt like he had no one.
Unlocking the door, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was so much to do. Sort, pack, donate. He still needed to contact a realtor, sell the house, find somewhere else to live. James had offered to let him stay until he was ready to look for a new place, as had Hilary. But it didn’t seem right. He couldn’t go back to his ex, nor could he bear living with Rosewood.
For a moment, he’d considered moving back home to Texas, but he couldn’t do that either. He’d wind up murdering his asshole brother, for one, and breaking his mother’s heart, for two. There were other places he could go, Mexico even, if he really wanted, but right then, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Except somewhere he could be with his friend again.
Moving down the hall, he stopped in front of the room that Zeklos had designated as his all those years ago. Even though he rarely stayed in that room these days, it had always been a comfort knowing that, no matter what happened, he had a second option. Today, he didn’t want that option, he wanted Zeklos.
He turned down the hall towards the master suite. Opening the door, he stood and stared, looking at the art on the walls, the fluffy comforter he’d always teased Zeklos about. It was the stack of worn paperbacks sitting on the nightstand that did him in eventually. He walked over to what had always been Zeklos’ side of the bed and sat down. Picking up the book on top, he flipped through the pages and found a bookmark stuck between pages 223 and 224. There would be no finishing this book, no seeing if the hero and heroine had their happily ever after. Somehow, that made his heart hurt that much more.
This was his fault.
His fault.
Nothing was ever going to bring Zeklos back, and there was no one to blame but himself. He’d taken the call, he’d run out after the suspect, he’d led Zeklos to his death.
“I’m so sorry, Zek,” he told the empty room. “God, Andrej, I’m so fucking sorry.”
He fell backwards onto the bed, clutching the book to his chest. Something jabbed him in his side and his hand flew to see what it was. His fingers landed on the hard grip of his pistol and a jolt of electricity shot through him. Tugging it out of its holster, he held it in front of his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I love you, Andy,” he whispered. “And I miss you so much, it’s killing me.”
A warm breeze blew across his face, drying his tears, caressing his skin. He couldn’t do this. As hard as it was to survive, it was harder to die.
“I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed, arm falling to his side, his gun bouncing on the mattress. “Help me, Zek.”
Zayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His lungs filled with the familiar scent of Zeklos’ bodywash mixed with his shampoo. It was a light, clean scent that had always smelled like peace to Zayne. He could feel Zeklos’ familiar presence surround him, strong arms wrapped around his middle, his beautiful head resting on his chest. With a sigh, Zayne wrapped his arms around the impossible, the man who no longer was, and held on tight.
**
Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, gritty from crying.
“Well there you are, cowboy,” a comforting voice said. But it wasn’t the voice he wanted so desperately to hear.
“Where did you expect me to be, narco,” he replied, eyes closing again.
“I’m not sure, but after Maxwell and Rollins called me, I started to worry.” He curled his body into Zayne’s, the feeling natural, reassuring, right. “And then I find you on Andy’s bed with a book on one side of you and your firearm on the other and I panicked a little.”
Zayne sighed, weary in body and mind. “I had a bad minute there,” he confessed.
James held him tighter. “I know, cowboy, believe me. I’ve had a couple bad minutes this past week myself.” He kissed Zayne’s face. “Although I haven’t had any quite that bad yet.”
“I pray you never do,” Zayne whispered. “You’re needed in this world. You do good work with that crackpot partner of yours.”
Jake chuckled. “Jake’s something, but he is mine. Andy always said something similar about you, you know. No matter how insane you got, he’d shrug and say, ‘He may be crazy, but he is mine. I do not have the time or the patience to break in another partner’.”
A smile tugged at Zayne’s mouth. “That sounds about right.”
“He loved you, Zayne.”
“I know,” he said. “And I loved him, too. I don’t think I ever told him enough.”
“You told him though,” James reminded him. “And that’s what counts.”
“I guess,” he said. “But it still hurts.”
“And it’s going to for a damn long time,” James said. “But I won’t leave your side unless you tell me to, okay?”
Zayne nodded, unable to voice the things he needed to say.
“Please tell me that you don’t really want to die, Reyes,” he begged.
“I don’t,” Zayne admitted. “But sometimes the pain and loneliness get to be too much and I don’t know what else to do.”
James rested his hand on Zayne’s firm stomach and sighed. “Dying is never the answer,” he said. “I know you feel like a failure right now, but we need you. All of us. And in a few weeks, there will be some green ass rookie detective that’s going to need all your experience and guidance. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll be come half the detective you are.”
He felt the tears building again. “Zeklos – Andrej – always told me that everything he knew about police work he’d learned from me. He’s a lying ass, but it always made me feel good to know that I was able to teach someone as smart as he was anything.”
“I think he learned a lot from you,” James said. “And I know you learned a lot from him. Heaven only knows he taught me a lot. I’m going to miss him like crazy, but it will get easier.”
“It had better,” Zayne said. “Otherwise, I’m not going to make it.” He ruffled James’ hair with his fingers. “You’re really going to stay with me?”
“Of course,” James said. “Believe it or not, I love your dumb ass, Reyes.”
“Right back at you, Rosewood.”
James hugged Zayne as hard as he could and was rewarded in kind. Zayne could hear James’ heart beating in his chest, could feel the warmth of his body. Something told him that this is what Zeklos would have wanted, for them to work together, rebuild their lives in his absence. Even if they didn’t stay together as lovers, they’d forever be bound as friends. Because of the love they both had for one amazing man, the man that had brought them together.
Funny that, because Zeklos had almost died that time, too. Maybe it was an omen, or a glimpse into the future. But whatever it was, it had given Zayne a second chance. The opportunity to see his true self and to love not just one, but two, of the most amazing people he’d ever known.
It wasn’t going to be easy moving on without Zeklos, but with James, maybe it’d be bearable.
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major character death.
Word Count: 3,447
Summary: A gunfight goes wrong, leaving one standing and another dead.
Author’s note: This exists outside of cannon because there’s no way I could make this *real*. It was inspired by a prompt sharpiesgal left at comment-fic: survivor’s guilt. Two songs by Tim McGraw were running in the background of my brain while writing this: Can’t Be Really Gone and When She Wakes Up (And Finds Me Gone). If you know the first, you’ll know it inspired a bit near the end.
The sound of gunfire rang out into the night and he felt himself pushed roughly to the side. “No,” he shouted, watching as that familiar form stepped in front of him, blocking the danger. Watching helplessly as that warm body fell to the ground.
“No,” he screamed into the night. Dropping his firearm, he crawled to his partner’s side. His arms buckled at the sight of the blood pouring out of his chest, the sheer amount of it seemed impossible. “No,” he repeated, this time in a whisper. “No, you can’t die, not now. Not when we’ve just figured it all out.”
**
“It’s going to be okay,” Trish said, hugging Zayne harder than she’d planned.
“How,” he asked, voice breaking. “How the hell will anything ever be okay ever again?”
“I don’t know, Zayne,” Hilary said, wrapping herself around Zayne’s free side. “But it always is, even when you think it can’t.”
He didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, because how was it fair that someone like his partner had died and yet he was still alive? He was the asshole, the jerk, the one who slacked off at every opportunity. But Zeklos? That boy was a workhorse. He put everything he had into everything he did. Work, life, love. It was always all or nothing with that man and yet, he was still the one who’d lost his life.
It wasn’t fucking fair. And no, it was not ever going to be okay.
**
The paramedics hadn’t wanted him to ride in the ambulance, but Zayne didn’t give them any choice. “He’s my fucking partner,” he’d shouted at the brunette with the blue eyes so much like Zek’s. “I’m responsible for him and I failed. Please.”
In the end, they’d let him ride. And when their patient coded halfway to the hospital, Zayne had almost wished he hadn’t ridden along. Wished it was his body laying lifeless on the stretcher.
Looking back, Zayne figured they had to have known he wasn’t going to make it, that the ride was too long and they had too few resources to save him. As tough as it had been, holding Zeklos’ hand as the life left his body, Zayne never would have forgiven himself for being anywhere but by his side. It was his fault that they’d even been there, he deserved to suffer as his best friend in the world lost his life.
**
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” James said, resting a hand lightly on Zayne’s shoulder.
“I know,” he said, shrugging off the soothing gesture. He couldn’t bear the redhead’s touch, not since… “I’ll be there, I promise.”
He had to be there, Zeklos had no one else to represent him here in the states. No family, no one but the friends he’d made on the job. Even the friend that got him killed in the end.
“I need to contact his family,” Zayne said. “Zeklos’ will stated his house should be sold and the profits sent to his sister.”
“How the hell are you going to contact his family? None of them speak any English.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Zayne looked at James and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t –”
“You were doing your job, Zayne,” James said, brushing his overly long bangs away from his face, trying again to comfort the cowboy with a touch. “It was nothing more than lousy timing.”
“Bok,” Zayne said. “It’s how Zeklos always referred to bad luck. Sounds like it feels. Bok.”
**
Zayne sat in the emergency room waiting area staring at his phone. He needed to call somebody – everybody – but he couldn’t bring himself to dial. Who to call first? James? Hilary? Their captain? No, none of those felt right. When he finally dialed, he surprised himself with who his subconscious mind chose.
**
Although he was still living in Zeklos’ house, he hadn’t slept in the bed they’d shared since the last night they’d been home together. He couldn’t bring himself to lay in that bed knowing that the love of his life wasn’t ever coming home. However, he had stolen Zeklos’ pillow and cradled it against his body, covering it in his own desperate tears.
Rosewood had come by, just to check on Zayne, he’d said. But Zayne wasn’t convinced. He was pretty sure that the ginger was regretting never taking Zeklos up on the offer to move in. Now, it was too late and they’d never truly be all that they could have been.
“Fuck me,” Zayne muttered, reaching for a plain, white button up shirt. He hated dressing up, being formal and precise, but doing it for someone who couldn’t appreciate it any longer burnt his britches. His eyes snagged on a pastel orange dress shirt, one that Zeklos had bought for him on a whim one day. “It will look nice with your skin,” he’d said. And he’d been right. He’d worn it as often as he could get away with because it always got him an appraising look from both Zeklos and the redhead.
It wasn’t even close to appropriate for funeral wear, but Zayne didn’t give a damn, his dark suit jacket would cover most of it anyway. Tugging it off the hanger, he slipped it onto his body and began buttoning it up. It’d be the last time he ever wore it, because the thought of not seeing Zeklos’ eyes light up at the sight of him wearing it was too much to bear.
**
“Hello,” the voice said, but he couldn’t respond. “Zayne? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
“Dal,” he said, the knot in his throat keeping him from getting the words out.
“Oh god, Zayne, no. What happened?”
All he could do was cry.
**
“I was worried you wouldn’t show,” Hilary said, slipping her arm through Zayne’s. “I’m glad you didn’t bail.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Couldn’t.”
“If anyone would understand, it’d be Andy,” Trish added. “And that shirt’s a nice touch.”
Hilary looked at him and smiled. “It was always his favorite,” she said. “Not sure how he knew tangerine was your color, but he did.”
Despite the seriousness of their situation, Zayne laughed. “That damn hoodie,” he said. The one that James now claimed as his own. It had once been his. And it was as orange as could be. Zeklos had loved it so much he hadn’t given it back, but that had been okay with Zayne. Even though that had been long before he knew he was in love with Zek, he’d been flattered Zeklos wanted that piece of him forever.
“Ah, I remember that,” Hilary said. “It looked good on you.”
“Even better on Andy,” Trish said.
Zayne agreed. The memory overwhelmed him then – a drenched Zeklos huddled in Zayne’s much too large hoodie and he felt tears threaten again. “I’m not going to make it through today,” he said.
“We’re here for you, cowboy,” James said from behind. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of Zayne’s head and moved to Trish’s side. “We’re always here for you.”
**
Their mother had always referred to Dahlia as the ‘Zayne Whisperer’. When no one else could figure out his moods, she always knew. Tonight had been no different. Maybe it was his inability to vocalize, or maybe it was some motherly-slash-big sister sixth sense, but she knew almost immediately that his world had been thrown into chaos. She was the only reason he’d been able to make that call to Rosewood.
James had insisted on retrieving him from the hospital, wouldn’t take no for an answer either. From there, he’d driven them both back to his apartment and tucked Zayne into his bed. They’d cuddled and cried and eventually fallen into an uneasy sleep.
It was the first time since he’d been seven that Zayne had had a nightmare.
Being the trooper that he was, James had held him while he cried, cuddled him until he’d settled, watched over him as he slept. He owed the narco so much, but he’d never be able to repay him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I know he was our heart and soul,” James said as they lay in bed, the early morning light starting to peek through the curtains, “but I’m still here and I still care about you.”
“I know, man,” Zayne said, his grip on the ginger’s body tightening. “But it all seems so pointless now.”
Zeklos had been the only reason the three of them were together. What became of the two left behind?
**
Watching Zeklos being lowered into the ground was the hardest thing he’d ever had to see. And that included witnessing his last breaths days before. This seemed so much more final, there was no coming back from being buried in the ground.
There was no hope for Zayne’s shattered heart, his broken soul.
James looped an arm around Zayne’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Come on, cowboy, let’s go back to my place and get drunk off our asses.”
“I don’t think I’ve had a better offer lately,” he said. “Let me stop by – by the house. I need to grab something.”
“Meet me at my place,” James said. “And if you’re longer than half an hour, I’m coming for you.”
“I’ll be there, I promise.” Although he wasn’t really sure if he’d make it or not. There was a definite chance he might put his service pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger.
But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about that tonight. There were things he needed to take care of before he could put his mind to rest.
**
His first day back to work was the day after Zeklos’ funeral. Zayne would have given anything to be anywhere other than here, staring at his partner’s empty desk, wishing that he was simply held up in traffic.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Hilary said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Andy made his choice and his choice was to save you. Respect that.”
“I can’t,” Zayne said. “Not when he deserved to live more than I did.”
“He loved you,” she said. “And that was why he sacrificed himself for you.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” he yelled at her. “It makes it worse, actually, because he was a warm, loving, wonderful person and all I ever did was make his life a living hell.”
Their captain sent him home after that outburst. It was the worst possible thing anyone could have done, sending him back to that empty house. A big, beautiful building that used to be a home full of love and laughter. Now, just an empty shell, devoid of life.
Kind of like Zayne.
**
“What the hell did you have to stop and get,” James asked, letting Zayne into his apartment.
“This,” he said, holding up a dusty bottle that was much too familiar to them both. “I think Zek would appreciate us toasting him with his own moonshine.”
James gave him a sad smile. “He was the only one of us who could stomach this stuff, so I’m sure it’ll tickle his funny bone if he’s watching us right now.”
Zayne took the bottle into James’ kitchen and retrieved two glasses. He poured a small measure into each and carried them back into the living room. Handing one to James he held his aloft. “To Zeklos, the best friend and partner a man could ever have.”
“Also, the best boyfriend and companion,” James added. He touched the rim of his glass to the side of Zayne’s and took a swallow. Grimacing, he shook his head.
“I know, right,” Zayne said, frowning. “Not even this mind-numbing desolation can make this shit palatable.” But he lifted the glass to his lips and knocked it all back in one shot.
“But maybe it’ll erase the pain for a few hours,” James said, finishing off his own portion. “Another?”
“Please.”
**
Zayne wanted to attribute his irritation and bad mood to the hangover he had. He and the narco never should have started on that damn Romanian paint thinner the night before. Finishing off the bottle in Zeklos’ name had definitely been a stupid decision. It was too late now, they’d done their deed and were paying for it in spades.
In a lot of ways, it was probably good that he’d been sent home. He could rest, take some aspirin, maybe do a couple shots of tequila to ease the pain in his very being. God only knew it’d take more than that to find the courage to begin sorting through Zeklos’ things.
He’d sent a letter to Zeklos’ sister in Romania. He’d written it out in English, then copied and pasted into Google translate, praying that it was at least somewhat accurate. It had taken him three tries to get it into the mailbox at the post office, his fingers reluctant to let it go, to make it even more real. At least Alina had her brothers, Tobar and Marku, to help her through her loss. Zayne felt like he had no one.
Unlocking the door, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was so much to do. Sort, pack, donate. He still needed to contact a realtor, sell the house, find somewhere else to live. James had offered to let him stay until he was ready to look for a new place, as had Hilary. But it didn’t seem right. He couldn’t go back to his ex, nor could he bear living with Rosewood.
For a moment, he’d considered moving back home to Texas, but he couldn’t do that either. He’d wind up murdering his asshole brother, for one, and breaking his mother’s heart, for two. There were other places he could go, Mexico even, if he really wanted, but right then, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Except somewhere he could be with his friend again.
Moving down the hall, he stopped in front of the room that Zeklos had designated as his all those years ago. Even though he rarely stayed in that room these days, it had always been a comfort knowing that, no matter what happened, he had a second option. Today, he didn’t want that option, he wanted Zeklos.
He turned down the hall towards the master suite. Opening the door, he stood and stared, looking at the art on the walls, the fluffy comforter he’d always teased Zeklos about. It was the stack of worn paperbacks sitting on the nightstand that did him in eventually. He walked over to what had always been Zeklos’ side of the bed and sat down. Picking up the book on top, he flipped through the pages and found a bookmark stuck between pages 223 and 224. There would be no finishing this book, no seeing if the hero and heroine had their happily ever after. Somehow, that made his heart hurt that much more.
This was his fault.
His fault.
Nothing was ever going to bring Zeklos back, and there was no one to blame but himself. He’d taken the call, he’d run out after the suspect, he’d led Zeklos to his death.
“I’m so sorry, Zek,” he told the empty room. “God, Andrej, I’m so fucking sorry.”
He fell backwards onto the bed, clutching the book to his chest. Something jabbed him in his side and his hand flew to see what it was. His fingers landed on the hard grip of his pistol and a jolt of electricity shot through him. Tugging it out of its holster, he held it in front of his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I love you, Andy,” he whispered. “And I miss you so much, it’s killing me.”
A warm breeze blew across his face, drying his tears, caressing his skin. He couldn’t do this. As hard as it was to survive, it was harder to die.
“I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed, arm falling to his side, his gun bouncing on the mattress. “Help me, Zek.”
Zayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His lungs filled with the familiar scent of Zeklos’ bodywash mixed with his shampoo. It was a light, clean scent that had always smelled like peace to Zayne. He could feel Zeklos’ familiar presence surround him, strong arms wrapped around his middle, his beautiful head resting on his chest. With a sigh, Zayne wrapped his arms around the impossible, the man who no longer was, and held on tight.
**
Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, gritty from crying.
“Well there you are, cowboy,” a comforting voice said. But it wasn’t the voice he wanted so desperately to hear.
“Where did you expect me to be, narco,” he replied, eyes closing again.
“I’m not sure, but after Maxwell and Rollins called me, I started to worry.” He curled his body into Zayne’s, the feeling natural, reassuring, right. “And then I find you on Andy’s bed with a book on one side of you and your firearm on the other and I panicked a little.”
Zayne sighed, weary in body and mind. “I had a bad minute there,” he confessed.
James held him tighter. “I know, cowboy, believe me. I’ve had a couple bad minutes this past week myself.” He kissed Zayne’s face. “Although I haven’t had any quite that bad yet.”
“I pray you never do,” Zayne whispered. “You’re needed in this world. You do good work with that crackpot partner of yours.”
Jake chuckled. “Jake’s something, but he is mine. Andy always said something similar about you, you know. No matter how insane you got, he’d shrug and say, ‘He may be crazy, but he is mine. I do not have the time or the patience to break in another partner’.”
A smile tugged at Zayne’s mouth. “That sounds about right.”
“He loved you, Zayne.”
“I know,” he said. “And I loved him, too. I don’t think I ever told him enough.”
“You told him though,” James reminded him. “And that’s what counts.”
“I guess,” he said. “But it still hurts.”
“And it’s going to for a damn long time,” James said. “But I won’t leave your side unless you tell me to, okay?”
Zayne nodded, unable to voice the things he needed to say.
“Please tell me that you don’t really want to die, Reyes,” he begged.
“I don’t,” Zayne admitted. “But sometimes the pain and loneliness get to be too much and I don’t know what else to do.”
James rested his hand on Zayne’s firm stomach and sighed. “Dying is never the answer,” he said. “I know you feel like a failure right now, but we need you. All of us. And in a few weeks, there will be some green ass rookie detective that’s going to need all your experience and guidance. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll be come half the detective you are.”
He felt the tears building again. “Zeklos – Andrej – always told me that everything he knew about police work he’d learned from me. He’s a lying ass, but it always made me feel good to know that I was able to teach someone as smart as he was anything.”
“I think he learned a lot from you,” James said. “And I know you learned a lot from him. Heaven only knows he taught me a lot. I’m going to miss him like crazy, but it will get easier.”
“It had better,” Zayne said. “Otherwise, I’m not going to make it.” He ruffled James’ hair with his fingers. “You’re really going to stay with me?”
“Of course,” James said. “Believe it or not, I love your dumb ass, Reyes.”
“Right back at you, Rosewood.”
James hugged Zayne as hard as he could and was rewarded in kind. Zayne could hear James’ heart beating in his chest, could feel the warmth of his body. Something told him that this is what Zeklos would have wanted, for them to work together, rebuild their lives in his absence. Even if they didn’t stay together as lovers, they’d forever be bound as friends. Because of the love they both had for one amazing man, the man that had brought them together.
Funny that, because Zeklos had almost died that time, too. Maybe it was an omen, or a glimpse into the future. But whatever it was, it had given Zayne a second chance. The opportunity to see his true self and to love not just one, but two, of the most amazing people he’d ever known.
It wasn’t going to be easy moving on without Zeklos, but with James, maybe it’d be bearable.
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Date: 2019-06-17 04:01 am (UTC)I'm just gonna have to be careful about the prompts I leave from now on.
*hugs*
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Date: 2019-06-17 12:15 pm (UTC)Nah, don't do that. It's good for me (us) to push our limits!
*squishes*
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Date: 2019-06-17 01:34 pm (UTC)Time to be extra nice to Andy.
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Date: 2019-06-17 01:37 pm (UTC)Hahaha... you should go look at my weekend challenge prompt. :D
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Date: 2019-06-17 11:22 am (UTC)Glad you said this was an AU. Now I want something fluffy and happy but noooo I have to go deal with kids. And then finish my homework.
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Date: 2019-06-17 01:39 pm (UTC)Yeah, I couldn't do that, not for real. Maybe one of the others, someone not in the core group, but never Andy. He was the first I'd come up with in this world so he's my baby. :) Hahaha... sorry about the kids and hte homework, but hopefully I can get you something fluffy soon.
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Date: 2019-06-24 06:47 pm (UTC)LOL thanks for the fluffy rock stars. :-) Much better way to start my day!
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Date: 2019-06-24 06:51 pm (UTC)Hey, anytime I can dirty up your Monday morning, let me know. LOL
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Date: 2019-06-24 06:57 pm (UTC)LOL you are welcome to dirty up my Monday (or any other morning) when ever you get the urge ;-)
I wrote a whole mess of comment fics yesterday... hopefully I'll get some more stuff written in the next few weeks.
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Date: 2019-06-24 07:04 pm (UTC)Hahaha... I'll keep that in mind. Smut isn't really my thing these days, but every now and then I can dig deep enough. :D
I saw that, congrats! I'm working on one this morning that I hope I can finish before I go home.
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Date: 2019-06-24 07:11 pm (UTC)Engh, just a story would work :-) I always enjoy seeing something new from you!
Yeah, I figured it was lonely prompts day or whatever so I'd do some fills. And now it's lonely prompts week so I'll probably knock some more out. I've got something like 90 prompts saved I need to do something with.
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Date: 2019-06-26 06:12 pm (UTC)Aw, thank you! I have something I started the other day but haven't had time to finish yet. Should probably do that soon.
Nice, good luck and have fun playing around.
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Date: 2019-07-01 01:58 am (UTC)Welcome! I don't always comment because of when I read, but I read everything.
Thanks! I filled 6 already this week. Hoping to fill 3 more before I got on vacation. My goal is 9 a week... it'll take me 9 and a half weeks to fill all the ones I have.
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Date: 2019-07-01 05:40 pm (UTC)Go you! Hope you can knock them all out!
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Date: 2019-07-16 01:44 am (UTC)Yeah... it didn't happen, but I filled another 2 yesterday. I did nothing on vacation because we were go go go.
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Date: 2019-07-16 06:30 pm (UTC)NIce. :)
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Date: 2019-07-19 07:30 pm (UTC):-)