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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's War - 28. Chapter 28

He turned, and noticed Marc had remained behind. He should have been surprised, but with everything that had passed between them, their failed attempt at a platonic friendship, it was no surprise that their final goodbye hadn't been lasting.

"Will?" Marc asked, seeing the man he had come to know and trust over the past few weeks look his way.

"I think we should go for a walk," Will said pushing his hands deeper into the heavy woollen great coat. "I think the cold air will do us both some good."

Readjusting his own coat, Marc nodded. The cold would get to him eventually, but that was all right. Will would at least talk with him, and he could use that gentle, unassuming presence for comfort.

They started walking along the path that went in a wide loop through the estate grounds and around the huge house. Marc followed, still having a slight sway in his walk from the amount he had drunk earlier in the evening. He hoped Will didn't notice. At least he wouldn't pass out due to it.

"Will, look, I can explain..."

"Well, yes," Will said. "I was hoping at least you would...."

Marc winced, feeling his forehead.

Will turned to look at the younger man. He prided himself on reading body language; he knew when someone was hiding something from him, being evasive. Usually, at least.

"Who started it?" Will asked, his deep hazel eyes studying that sad face, those eyes that always looked so terrified of everything. Scared to death of living, he realized sadly.

"I was just walking out, because I needed some fresh air. That bastard had two girls on his arm, and he thought that because I was dating Libbet.. I don't know, I guess he hit a nerve or something, and so... I finally threw the first punch." He turned to Will. "It's all my fucking fault. I don't deserve to be here, let alone in this city."

"I hardly think a drunken fistfight at a party late at night constitutes exile, Marc, or anything of the sort." Will raised an eyebrow. "And I doubt the RCMP will run you out of town for defending yourself. I can't exactly fault you for something you did. It's not as if I'm your boss, and I doubt Mister Weippert will press any assault charges."

Marc looked down and kicked at some snow with his shoes, Libbet had bought them for him, like virtually everything else he wore...

"But," Will began again, distracting Marc's thoughts, "why did you start it? Couldn't you have ignored him?"

"Well... that just it..." Marc glanced around, wishing he didn't have to talk about it. But then again, he really didn't have a choice now really. "He...thought I was eyeing one of the girls he had with him, and started pestering me about it."

Will smiled a bit, walking through the snow. Typical, he thought, it was over girls.

"But that was the problem, I really took offence to that!"

"Why? Were you doing what he said you..."

"No!" Marc nearly yelled so loud it shifted the snow at their feet. He threw his hands out innocently and lowered his voice. "I wasn't. Not at all."

Will raised an eyebrow again. He stared intently at Marc for a moment.

"Well, he sure thought you were," Will said finally. "But if you say you weren't, I believe you."

Marc bit his lip, everything was so confusing, he was walking through the snow on the verge of telling Will... telling Will what? That he wasn't attracted to the girls? That he wasn't attracted to Libbet? That there was only one person on his mind? And the guilt from that was driving him crazy. They were supposed to just walk away from one another, never see each other again. Why was it, every time Marc swore he wouldn't see Will again, there he was, like fate or something...

Will sucked in a cold breath of air before continuing: "You still didn't have to fight him over that, though. What are you doing here anyway? I thought this was a business function."

Marc stopped biting his lip, and sighed.

"I came to the party with Libbet, she was supposed to be my date, before she took off and vanished."

"Libbet?" Will asked with surprise obvious in his voice. Libbet, what did Libbet have to do with Robert Avery...

Marc blushed, despite himself. Will would understand. He should, at least, he hoped.

Will blinked, still obviously surprised. Marc blushed deeper.

"Libbet Avery," the young man said finally, chewing on the words a bit.

It was like a cold shock, "Libbet...Elizabeth Avery..." Will mumbled a curse, still surprised: "Robert Avery's daughter?"

Marc sighed: "Yes..."

Will stopped walking, and sighed heavily himself now. He looked up and rolled his eyes; of all the fucked-up situations.

"Of all the people in this city... The old man's daughter!?"

Marc blinked, he did understand! The surprise was about something else.

"My god...Avery...." Will muttered, shaking his head.

"Listen, I'm not much proud of that either, alright?" Marc muttered back. "She's playing games with me right now, and I can't stand it!" He kicked the snow again with his boot as if to illustrate his point.

Will stopped being shocked over the fact that it was the old man's daughter, of all people, and looked at Marc who was quite angry again now.

"You're angry at her? I thought you said she was your date?"

"She 'was' my date! She came with me to the party, but she had to go and suddenly vanished when we walked in! And just as I was about to... Gah! She's doing it on purpose, I'm sure!"

Will reached up and scratched his cheeks and the slight coarseness of his five o'clock shadow, as if pondering it all. When things went to hell, they certainly went to hell spectacularly. How was he going to sort this mess out? He wasn't Brody; he didn't have the ability to just pull a social miracle out of nowhere.

"Well, that explains a lot," he finally said, turning to lean up against a length of very old stone wall that jutted about three feet out of the ground.

Marc picked up a clump of snow in his hands, and tried to make a snowball with it. It crumbled through his fingers to the ground however, and he sighed. He looked up, his breath making steam in the air. He looked up at Will, unsure on how to really interpret the man's expression. He looked interested in what Marc had to say, and that made him feel uncomfortable. He felt a sudden trust creep up on him.

"I have a feeling if Libbet hadn't vanished, intentional or not, you wouldn't have taken that first swing at Lucas," Will said, watching Marc.

"Think so?"

"Yes..."

"It's just that I didn't want to come tonight. I came and she, just started to act funny like she was ashamed of me. I'm such an idiot. I shouldn't have wasted my time, anyway. The whole thing was straight out of a book or something."

"Look, Marc," Will said, shifting his overcoat. "I'm no expert when it comes to relationships or romance. God knows if I'm even still competent myself at it lately. But I do know you're angry with someone you trusted and were attracted to. Anyone would feel angry after that. It's only human. But you've got to try to control that. There are a lot of Lucas's out there in this world, unfortunately."

Marc laughed, imagining a group of Lucas's running Avery-Woods and trying to deal with each other.

Will smiled slightly; glad the young man could at least laugh.

"Do you really like her, this Libbet Avery?"

"I thought I did... but I met someone.. else.." Marc blushed again. "Now I just don't know. It was over with Libbet a long time ago, it's just she won't let go and I can't hurt her. But at the same time..." he looked up into Will's eyes, "here you are offering me everything in the world and that fucking scares the shit out of me."

"I see," Will said quietly as he swallowed; how did he feel about the small guy standing just a few feet from him? There was a strong attraction there, but did his feelings run as deep as Marc's did? Was it fair of him to put Marc in this situation?

"You should hear when she does an impression of her dad," Marc said, suddenly changing topics.

Will smiled slightly as he pictured a young daughter of Robert Avery mocking his mentor. He thought silently: You were never the type to have children, Robert.

"I don't even know why I bother sometimes..." Marc muttered.

"You really only have two choices now from the way I see it," Will said, adjusting his overcoat again. "You could continue a relationship with her, putting yourself second, lying and leading her on, so that when it does come out you will hurt her more. Or, you can tell her how you feel; at least that way you'd be able to figure out what it is you want out of life instead of trying to guess what she wants."

"I don't even know why I bother sometimes..." Marc shrugged. "This was never supposed to be this complicated. I should just give up."

Will raised an eyebrow again: "Well, I suppose there's that choice too...." From the look in Marc's eyes however, he doubted that choice would last. Marc had tried it, running away from his problems only to find they had never really gone away.

Marc glanced up, looking at the man he was falling in love with. Terrifying or not, there was no way he could hide how he felt there. Will was someone he could respect, it seemed. No one had ever cared about him this much, especially not about what had happened to him, and Will so easily offered to help him too.

"But don't look a second chance in the face and pass it by, Marc." Will's eyes became slightly distant again; he wasn't sure of his own feelings towards Marc, and there he was giving the kid advice to save his relationship. It was a messed up situation indeed.

"Seems like you have experience... with this, I mean." Marc said, "Andrew..."

"I suppose you could say that," Will muttered.

"What's it like, then, feeling lonely?"

Will thought about it for a moment and then leaned back, his eyes closed.

"Adrift... like being out at sea with no one else. And there's no fresh water. Everything you needed is gone now. And no one is there to help you or want you."

Another moment of silence passed between them.

"You know," Marc finally said, "they say if you screamed in the depths of space, no one will hear you."

Will opened his eyes at the randomness of the comment; he thought about it for a second, "A scientific truth, but quite fitting for the feeling of loneliness as well." Will nodded. He shrugged then, as if not trying to dwell too long on it. "But just like anger, you have to control it. And move on..."

He turned to Marc now, looking at the young man who he had developed feelings for, the person who could end his own feelings of loneliness if he could just take the hand he was offered.

"They also say time heals all wounds, Marc." Marc glanced up at him silently as Will continued, "Some just take longer than others."

Marc nodded: "I guess so."

Will looked over to the front of the house in the distance. He noticed some of Lucas's co-workers and friends coming back from the cars, without Lucas. That was a good sign at least. He saw Bruce Weippert walking through the cars returning to the house; someone must have told him about his son, and Will pitied the kid.

"You should get back to the party," he said, turning back to Marc.

Marc swallowed and nodded. "Goodbye Will," he said, feeling the sadness inside him welling up again.

Will nodded in understanding, "Take care of yourself." It seemed all they ever did since they had met was say goodbye to one another. The bite of regret for what never could be always stung them, but Will refused to let it show.

Marc turned and was gone, trudging through the snow back to the bright lights and din of the party.

Copyright © 2011 Topher_Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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