Landfall - 13. So What's Going on, Dave?

My Bureau iPhone on the hospital nightstand gave it's annoying “three chirps and stop”, “three chirps and stop” ring. I grab it, don't recognize the number, but since it's the Bureau phone, go ahead and answer---if they're calling on this number, it's important.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Dave. It's Barry. Did I catch ya at a bad time? I know it's late but....”

Damn nice to hear his voice.

Lowering my voice since it's after ten pm as I swing my feet off the side of the bed, “Not at all, Barry....great to hear your voice. How ya feeling?”

“Groggy, body aches like I've been hit by a tractor-trailer rig, but guess I'm ok. Got a Bureau nurse here, he's filled me in, and he's monitoring me, says I'm doing fine. How are you?”

“Oh, I'm ok....various bruises all over, minor concussion from hitting the pavement as that last shot knocked me down. I'll live; I'm a tough codger.” I laughed a little just to let him know that I really was ok.

“Yeah, the Assistant Director left here just a few minutes ago; he filled me in on how they worked my plan. He's the one who gave me this number for you. Guess they got rid of your old number since it was connected with Frank. They really covered all the bases—and I was convinced you were dead. I'm really glad you're ok.”

I chuckled again. “Yeah, I'm fine. Really. I've just been worried about you—just really, really good to hear you're ok, Barry.”

“Yeah, in fact, the Assistant Director told me several things that were very interesting.” There's an edge now in Barry's voice. Long pause. “Why didn't you tell me you didn't think you could do your job with me? We'd talked about that on the plane—and I thought it was settled—we'd already been in Florida, and you were still having doubts? Don't you think you should have talked about that with me again before you talked with the Assistant Director? You would have fuckin' left without talking with me? You'd have left me alone?” He's louder now, sounding pissed.

Shit.

“Is this our first fight?” I laugh, but my attempt to break the tension falls flat. Barry's waiting for my response.

Total silence on the line.

Deep breath. My head hurts. And this sounds like it could get ugly.

“Sorry, I was just trying to add a little comic relief here. Look, Barry, we hadn't been in Florida long, I was still pissed at myself that I'd let my professional guard down with you, and my first and foremost job is to protect you. And even though we talked about it on the plane, I couldn't risk you getting hurt, and if I couldn't manage my feelings around you and it impacted your safety, it'd kill me.”

His voice drops into a growl. “So I'm just a fuckin' job to you?”

“Barry, stop it. You know how I feel about you, dammit! I've been up front about my crush on you....and it's developed into more than just a simple crush. Gimme a break here.”

Long pause.

Total silence.

Sigh. “Ok, Dave, I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling great, it's all kinda hit me today what a fucked-up mess I've made out of my life. Jackie's dead, my boys are gone, I don't have a life anymore, I'm alone and I'm missing you.....what the hell have I done? Maybe it'd be better if I really did just........”

Quiet racking sobs fill the line. There's a desperation in his voice I've never heard before. My heart in my throat is breaking to hear him like this. And I'm stuck here at Parkland, dammit.

“Look, I told ya, Barry, this is all gonna work out. We've had a hurricane of activity but now you've got a chance for some peace after all the insanity of hiding out and the trip back and the ambush we had. Just hang on, ok, baby? I'll be there tomorrow and we can work through all of this together. Can you do that for me? Can ya hang in there for me? Come on....tell me you can do this for me.....please. I'll do whatever it takes to help ya feel better, ok? You know how I feel about you—promise you'll hang on for me, ok, baby?”

The sobs turn into sniffles. My adrenalin level is going down, thank God.

“Ok, I'll hang on, Dave.” A little boy voice is on the other end. “I'm sorry, I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself tonight. But promise we'll have some alone time to talk about this tomorrow, ok? I really need that from ya, Dave.”

I can hear a knock at his door through his phone.

“Hey, Dave, it's Jonathan and Greg. I gotta go. But we can talk tomorrow, right? Promise?”

“Of course we will, baby. Just promise you'll hang on until I get there, ok? Promise?”

“I will, Dave. I'll see ya tomorrow. And.....I'm sorry. Bye”

The line goes dead. Call ended.

FUCK!

Sounds like Barry is on his way to a meltdown. Jonathan and Greg are there, they'll help if Barry will open up with 'em. But Barry will re-box everything, dammit. He's always been able to do that, and they'll never know how badly he's hurting.

Call Greg's cell. Goes to voice mail. “Greg, it's Dave. Look, Barry's having a hard time tonight. Stay with him till he's calm and gets some sleep, ok? Give me a call back when you get this with an update. Thanks, guy.”

Jonathan's cell is next. Thankfully, he picks up on the second ring. “Jonathan, it's Dave, go take this call out in the hall, ok?”

Jonathan excuses himself, and is back on the line in seconds. “Great to hear ya, Dave. What's up?”

“Good to hear ya, too, Jonathan...and right now, we need to talk about Barry. He's not feeling well, he's really down in the dumps, I'm really worried about him. Do me a favor, talk with the nurse there, see if they can give him something to help him sleep—if he asks for it. But until he asks, would either you or Greg or both of you stay with him until he goes to sleep? Let him talk about whatever is on his mind. Just don't let him be alone, ok? And let the nurse know what's going on privately so he can check on him through the night.”

“So what's going on, Dave? Is he really in that bad a shape? He looks ok, just tired.”

“I just hung up with him, Jonathan, just as y'all came in the room; he sounded really down, was crying on the phone with me. I'm probably just being overprotective, but I'd really feel better if y'all would stay there with him.”

“No problem, Dave. We'll be here as long as we're needed.”

“Thanks, Jonathan. I really appreciate it. Give a call when you break free or he's asleep. I just really wanna know he's ok.”

“You got it, boss. Heading back in now.” Jonathan ends the call on his cell.

Guess this whole episode confirms my assessment of Barry back from the first time I was assigned to the case. He's always been a remarkably strong man, able to clearly identify what's going on around him. Intelligent. Fast thinking. He's got the capability of dealing with issues decisively, head on. And, at a personal level, he's always been able to box up his personal life, his public life, the lives of his sons, his marriage into separate boxes and deal with them one by one as he needed to.

Big-hearted guy, too. Everyone that we'd interviewed as a part of the case also talked about what a good guy he was. Always willing to lend a hand to neighbors, causes, the school. Always friendly. Always direct. And obviously totally into being the best dad he could, despite the criminal aspects of his job. The reaction of his boys during all of this, and even when they met me, shows he did a fine job.

Anyone would be at the breaking point. The fact he's hung on this long only proves what a strong guy he is.....but is it enough?

Am I about to lose him? Can he work his way out of this?

Maybe I need to call the Assistant Director. Maybe I need to just go over there now. Maybe I.....

My cell rings again. Jonathan's calling. Oh, God.....what could have happened in 15 minutes?

“Jonathan....everything ok there?”

In a whisper, “Yeah, Dave, it's Greg, and everything is cool. I'm calling from the bathroom on Jonathan's phone. The nurse that's here already had a sleeping pill available for him, and Barry just took it. He asked us to spend the night with him, so we're all piling in the king-size bed together. He just didn't wanna be alone. He's talking, but it's the sort of stuff you'd expect with him dealing with his losses. We'll talk it all through with him—or rather let him talk, we'll listen. He'll be ok tonight.”

Whew! “Thanks, Greg. My boy is hurting right now, and I'm glad y'all are there to take care of him. Call me tomorrow morn when you get rolling for the day—I'll fill ya in on my schedule then. I appreciate y'all!”

“Will do. Good night, Dave.”

For a guy who projects such a simple direct demeanor, dammit, Barry is far more complex. He's got the “good ole boy” routine down pat, but there's so much more. Proof of the old line of deep waters running still. Guess that's why I love the guy; there's so much substance to him that most would never see or he'd never allow others to see.

Wait....whoa! Love? Where'd that come from?

I'm surprised as hell—and yet I'm not. Ever since Keith was killed all those years ago, I've never felt a connection to any guy like I do with Barry. And yeah, it's strong enough to be love.

It took me a year and a half to get over losing Keith—well, over him enough to be able to think about dating again. When in Dallas, I'd go hang out at the Roundup, and country-western dance with all the hot cowboys. Or go to JR's, and try to find something in common with the young fashion-model looking guys. Or just hang out at the now long-closed Hideaway or John L's, enjoying the raucous atmosphere and good times at these fun cabarets with the rest of Dallas' professional crowd.

And when I'd be on the road, I'd go out, hoping to meet a guy who had potential. And despite my efforts, I never met a guy after Keith who measured up to what I wanted.

It's not like Keith became a saint after he was killed. He was a great man, and I loved him like crazy, but we were just like every other couple; we had our ups and downs, we'd battle through misunderstandings, struggle to make bills meet, and at times we'd even allowed the sex to become common place. But we meshed.

Keith always managed, generally in spite of me, to bring out the best in me. I always wanted to be a little more for him. Be a little smarter. Be a little funnier. Be a little sexier. Be.....well, better. And Barry makes me feel that same way.

I'd stand taller when Keith held my hand. Even from the start, I'd know what he was thinking—and he knew what I was thinking—with just a glance. We had the same offbeat sense of humor and invariably would laugh at things at the same time.

Day in/day out life with him was relaxed; easy.

But after Keith was gone, I never did find another guy. And when the trips to the Roundup or JR's or The Hideaway or out of town locations didn't yield any results, I'd do the occasional hookup. Hey, we all have needs, right? Only problem is, I'd do a hookup—even being careful about the type of guy I get with—and walk away disappointed. Yeah, I'd get off, but I'd realized that it was the intimacy I wanted, not just the sex. And sex without intimacy is just mechanical bits and parts to a robot with no feelings.

Shit, guess it's time to face up to it. Barry and I mesh like no one else I've ever been with. It's an almost instinctive thing. It's not just that he's sexy as hell and hits all the right visual spots with me; he really seems to “get” me. When he listens as I talk, it's like there's no one else in the world around but us. When we talk about anything from politics or religion to the best steak around, he's got an opinion—and it generally matches mine. And half the time, we're now finishing each other's sentences.

Doesn't hurt that he's a good-looking sonofabitch either. Masculine, and absolutely charming. Intense eyes that always look like they're drawing you into his inner circle of confidants and running buddies with high energy, sexual undercurrents, and the feeling that you're one of the few who gets the inside joke. Stays in good shape, without seeming to hafta work out or watch his weight for that dreaded middle age spread. Bastard.

Despite the fact that he's been involved in illegal activities, we have a lot in common. We both bring baggage to the present. We both have been in long-term relationships, although the way he defined his and the way I defined mine were far different—I never cheated on Keith. We're gonna hafta talk about that. We both lost spouses unexpectedly. We both are comfortable with a suburban life, and neither one of us wants or needs highly visible public lives to be happy.

I gotta admit I love that he's a “toucher”. He's really into the whole cuddle thing. And his kisses set me on fire. There's nothing weak or reserved about 'em—they're just like him, full bore, direct, honest....and hot as hell. Shit, even holding hands with him on the beach when we were in Florida was a thrill. And the one time we've had sex was one of the hottest encounters of my life, even if it was only a blow job. His enthusiasm more than made up for his inexperience. His blush the next day when Jonathan and Greg mentioned it over brunch was absolutely priceless—and totally endearing.

And whether it's quiet times by the pool or rowdier times on a dance floor—where he's got some surprisingly good moves—it all just feels right. We've got an intimacy in our relationship that goes far beyond sex. Yeah, it's definitely moved from just a crush.

Yup, I'm in love.

Ok, you dumbass, are ya gonna tell him, or what?

Tomorrow's the day.