Carter's Recourse - 2. Chapter 2

It was a gorgeous Ottawa day, sun streaming down on the two of them as they walked along the street. Will had his hands in his pockets walking casually past the Houses of Parliament heading down towards the canal and Rideau Street beyond it.

West looked over at the man who had helped him get into Sandhurst, and subsequently the British army, the same man who had introduced him to the old man who had taken him under his wing and turned a boy into one of the Queen's officers.

William Carter was so much like his father in manner and bearing, simple and unassuming, and yet possessed with a strength that was undeniably lying just beneath the surface. The fact that Will was a Member of Parliament at twenty-seven said something about how much like his father he really was.

He had expected changes, but then he hadn't expected... he squinted over at Will, what had he expected? Certainly not a Member of Parliament, self-confident and... Hardly the same man, West wasn't the only one who had grown up.

"We have a couple of options," Will said, strolling along leading the way. He pointed down the road, "There's the market, plenty of coffee shops and cafés down there. Or," he shifted his arm to point up Elgin Street, "we have Elgin Street and its diners."

West shifted his hard gaze across the picturesque Confederation Square with its looming war memorial, and he swallowed. "Can we do the market?"

Will picked up on his companion's discomfort, and he followed those narrow eyes to the memorial, and back to Captain Harding. "Of course," he said, sounding sympathetic. Anyone who had seen action would be touched by a memorial like that. Hell, anyone who had felt the touch of war would view the stone and bronze structure with heavy eyes.

Will took the lead as they wound through the crowds, Will pausing to let the other man catch up to him. He seemed so out of place amidst the tourists and sightseers, like he physically belonged somewhere else, somewhere far away from that place. Somewhere with sand, blood and smoke.

"I'm sorry to drag you away from your work," West said, tipping back the brim of his tropical hat to look about him. Will was beginning to recognize that motion. His father had made it every time he was out. It was instinctual for people used to keeping an eye out for trouble, always hyperaware of everything around them. And Will felt a pang of sympathy, imagining what it took to earn those instincts.

"So, you graduated and became an officer?" Will said as they crossed the street, passing under a condo building that was being constructed in the heart of the downtown core. "And you served under my father?"

"Yes," West said as his eyes scanned the tall structure with its gaping windows, "I was assigned to his unit in Cyprus."

"Cyprus?" Will inquired as he motioned for them to turn into the market.

"Yes, we were stationed there to acclimatize for duty in the gulf," he said after a pause.

"Right," Will said, as they crossed another street and Will guided them into a small courtyard bordered upon by several restaurants, all with patios. Will nodded to a waitress as he walked to a table and sat down. West hesitated a moment before he joined Will at the table.

West removed his hat, adjusting to get comfortable in the chair, and for the first time Will got a good look at the young soldier. West had changed; he looked thinner, still an attractive young man in a simple kind of way, dirty blond hair and grey eyes. There was something about those eyes that made Will pause, there was a tightness there, like the man hadn't slept in a very long time. And Will sat back in his chair just watching for a moment as he contemplated; again, what had killed the youth in that young man.

"You're looking at me the way he did," West said after a moment.

Will frowned for a moment and nodded, "I was just thinking of how much you remind me of my father."

"Funny," West said quietly, "one of the last things he said to me before he died was how much I reminded him of you."

Will looked up as a waitress refilled his mug, looking across the table at the brown-on-beige camouflage pattern of the uniform, the unit patch mirrored by the Union Jack (the only splash of bright colour) the narrow jaw, thin face and finally the eyes again.

"All right," Will said picking up his coffee and sipping it, "what brought you halfway around the world to find me? I take it from the uniform that you haven't come back for a vacation, or to see your parents."

"A promise," West said, not touching his own cup. Instead he folded his arms and squared his shoulders, "Now I'm here I'm not exactly sure where to start."

Will nodded compassionately, "I can imagine, take your time."

"It's not that," West said, glancing away at a couple of children running around playing with each other, "I just wonder how much I should tell you."

Will's phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it; he spoke tensely into the phone a minute as he flipped it shut, "I'm sorry, my fiancé is being an idiot." He explained with a light smile.

"Fiancé?" West asked in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up.

Will was certain there was something he was missing as he clipped his phone back to his belt, "Yes I am engaged, though I sometimes wonder why." He smiled again shaking his head.

West glanced down at his plate, his brow furrowed, suddenly very uncertain. And Will watched him, wondering what on earth could... His eyes flicked up, of course.

"Gay marriage is legal in Ontario," he said simply.

West's confusion vanished as he visibly relaxed, "Oh." He sounded relieved.

Will smiled, West was a little out of the loop, four years away would do that. Last he had seen was... "I got engaged last year, just before the election," Will said, taking another drink and glancing at his menu. "I'm sorry, all of this must seem a bit overwhelming." Will looked up, realizing West must be suffering culture shock.

"It is a bit," West admitted. "I'm sorry, I was thrown for a loop there."

"Right," Will replied with a chuckle. "I forget, sometimes, how liberal of a society Canada can be."

West nodded. "You have no idea," he said with a long sigh. "So, you said you're having problems with your fiancé?"

Will blinked at the forward question, but shrugged, he had a feeling this guy knew a lot about him already. Familiarity often gave a person the feeling they could ask whatever they wanted, even if the question was very personal. Will couldn't fault West for that, and he rationalized it wouldn't hurt to just answer the question.

"I'm dating a very... insecure young man," Will explained with a fond smile. "Sometimes he is fine, others he gets very...needy."

West nodded, "Too needy?"

Will sighed, "It's a bit much sometimes."

"Have you talked it over with him?" West asked, beginning to relax.

Will seemed mildly amused by the sudden shift in the conversation. There he was discussing his love life with a man he hadn't seen in years and had barely known back then. It was better than his own friends, with their observations of how difficult Marc was. He knew their advice, ad nauseum; sometimes it was just easier to talk to someone without the ‘I told you so' looks.

"We've talked about it, he's just," Will chuckled, "he loves me very much, but sometimes I think he's scared he's going to lose me. He hasn't quite clued in that I love him as well."

"Yeah," West said, "a friend of mine was like that with her husband. He doted on her and she seemed to get more and more insecure, till they divorced and she got out on her own and became a totally different woman..." He stopped and looked at Will awkwardly, "I didn't mean...I'm sorry."

Will waved him off, "I get what you mean, don't worry about it. Marc and I will work things out in our own way."

"Yeah," West said, rubbing his temples, "I'm sorry."

"Shall we order?" Will asked holding up the menu, hoping to change the subject. It was a little unsettling to sit there with someone who knew things about him, and yet whom he knew so little about in return.

Once the waitress had spirited the menus away, Will set his cup down and looked across the table, "Well, Captain Harding..." He paused.

"West, call me West," came the reply, as the soldier's lip curled slightly into an amused smile. "You're going to ask me about me, to sort of even the score."

Will nodded, "Only seems fair."

"What's there to know--I got into Sandhurst because you recommended me to your father. I worked hard and completed the year's training, I did my platoon training after that at Catterick..."

"I was born there," Will said with a smile. "Dismal little hole, lots of mud..."

"Yeah, completed my training there and one of my instructors noticed I had a talent for leadership." He shrugged, "I guess I did well because when I was done they assigned me to a light armoured unit."

Will nodded thoughtfully, "Where did you serve?"

"Originally? Germany," West said with a half grin. "You can imagine what it was like having a bunch of kid soldiers bored to death in a foreign country."

Will remembered all too well some of his father's stories. How his unit had mistaken a farmhouse for a target objective and taken it. How the farmer's wife had been shocked to see British soldiers storming her house, and how her old mother kept yelling in German to get the gun and teach those Englanders a lesson.

"That all changed a couple of years ago," West said thoughtfully. "We all thought we were going to Afghanistan, but they broke up our unit and I got sent to Cyprus; they didn't warn us exactly where our final destination was going to be until after we began training."

Their food came out, and Will smiled a polite thank-you as he began to tuck into his salad, "So, you were saying, that's where you first served under my father?"

"Your dad was the Exec to the Battalion, we were all afraid of him," he chuckled. "He was always so stern and a real bastard."

"That would describe the good Colonel." Will chuckled, his father had always been a disciplinarian, proud and strong, bellowing orders as he marched about trying to make sure things like rooms were cleaned, and homework was done.

"Problem was our Company Commander went down with the flu just before we were deployed," West continued. "There was no time to fly in another officer and the Colonel ended up taking command of our company."

"I didn't know my father commanded tanks," Will commented thoughtfully.

"No, no," West said hurriedly. "Light armoured, think Land Rovers with machineguns mounted on them..."

"Right," Will said with a nod, not fully understanding, but accepting the clarification.

West blew out a long sigh, and grinned at Will, "Ok, heavy armour, those are your tanks; medium armour are your lighter tanks and your APC's." He saw Will's blank stare, "Armoured Personnel Carriers," he explained. "And then you have your light armour, Land Rovers. We handle patrols and scouting missions for the main force."

"I get it," Will said, imagining his father bouncing along in the desert in the passenger seat of a Land Rover.

"Well, I guess we were lucky; the Colonel was the only one in the battalion who had seen any combat, both in the first gulf war and in the Falklands."

"Northern Ireland as well," Will said quietly setting his fork down and picking up his tea; he knew the bitterness every Englishman felt towards that struggle.

"As I said," West replied, meeting Will's eyes, "we were lucky to have someone that knew what he was doing along with us. As it was we were shorthanded; there was myself and two other lieutenants, each of us commanding three Land Rovers. None of us knew what the hell we would be facing..." He stopped, "Don't get me wrong, we'd been trained, but training's not the same as actually being in combat."

"I can imagine not," Will replied, wondering how he would have felt getting ready to go into combat for the first time. Scared out of his mind probably.

"Still, the fact we were getting ready to go was good. Your dad, for all his uptight lectures, was a good C/O; he could keep the men in line, and they trusted him to get them out of trouble if things got too heavy."

"So what happened?" Will asked, looking up at West.

"He got shot," West replied calmly.