Paying The Piper - 42. Chapter 42

Quent stalked down the hospital corridor, pleased when people scurried out of his way. He stopped by the nurse’s station and verified White’s room number. Wanting to keep the staff off guard, he smiled sweetly at a couple of the on-duty nurses.

Several turns later, Quent came to Room 212. He pushed through without knocking, it seemed to be the accepted norm around the place, but pulled up when he saw who was already inside.

Sarah was sitting on the edge of Braden’s bed. She gave him a shy smile, but Braden just snorted and continued chewing his toast. "Thank God breakfast is almost over. I’ve just lost my appetite," he declared. He threw his napkin onto the tray.

Quent walked up to the bed and crossed his arms. He adopted his most menacing glare, but to his consternation, Braden simply shook his head. "Nice try, Quent. But I’ve been through much worse lately. Your bad cop impression doesn’t scare me anymore."

Out of the corner of his eye, Quent saw Sarah’s smile broaden. Inwardly, he sighed. Too many people had been smiling at him of late. Smiling people were the beginning of the end. All doubt vanished from Quent’s mind – his career was over.

"We need to discuss your little extortion scheme," Quent said.

Braden sighed and pushed the tray away. Sarah stepped forward to take it, but Braden forestalled her. "You don’t have to wait on me, Sarah. But would you give us a few minutes alone?"

Sarah shrugged. "Sure, but as long as I’m going, why don’t I take the tray?"

"No thanks." Braden grinned at Quent. "I want some ammunition if things get tense." Braden inclined his head toward the breakfast tray. "Not as good as a bedpan, I hear, but still serviceable."

Sarah gave a tentative smile. She stood, and after a brief touch to Braden’s leg, left the room.

"Ammunition?" Quent questioned.

Braden grinned. "Yeah. I hear you’re a mean shot with a bedpan." He hoisted his breakfast tray in his hands. "A bit bulky, probably not as aerodynamic, but I think I could defend myself adequately."

"You won’t be making jokes when I’m through with you, White," Quent snarled.

"Don’t be too sure. I find you very amusing."

Quent’s eyes narrowed. "Really?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

"Yes. But try not to make me laugh, it kills my ribs." Braden eased back onto his pillows. "How’s the leg?" he asked.

If Quent was startled by the question, he didn’t show it. He ran a hand over his injured thigh. "Fine."

Braden shrugged and didn’t speak again. He laced his hands over his stomach and waited.

To Quent’s consternation, the majority of his speech dried up on his tongue. He cursed Cale and that senile bastard, Masters, for getting him all emotional. He wanted to bust White all the way back to the county jail. Why the hell was he hesitating?

Braden continued to stare at him, calm and unaffected.

Quent decided to go with his gut. It hadn’t failed him yet. "Had any epiphanies lately?" he asked.

Braden blinked in surprise. "You mean the life-altering kind?"

"Any kind."

Braden cocked his head and stared hard at Quent. "Let me think. Actually, yes, just yesterday I realized how sorry I was for not getting a better attorney when that girl accused me of rape. I wonder what my life would've been like if the truth had won out all those years ago."

"The truth has a way of rising to the surface eventually."

"So do dead bodies. What’s your point?"

Quent didn’t answer. He let his gaze travel over the bandages and other paraphernalia surrounding Braden. "What are those?" he demanded when his eyes fell on Braden’s feet.

Braden laughed and wiggled his toes. "Where have you been? They’re self-warming slippers." He grinned at Quent’s look of disgust. "The wave of the future."

Quent stared at the twin bright blue booties with narrowed eyes.

White cleared his throat, drawing Quent's gaze upward. "I’ve paid my dues, don’t you think?" When Quent didn’t answer, Braden continued. "I’ve been punished for things I didn’t do and came through the other side of it with my sanity intact." He gave a wry smile. "And I’ve done some things recently – I’m not proud of. But I sure as hell suffered for those as well. So tell me, Quent. When do I stop paying?"

"Never, White," Quent replied. "You never stop paying."

Braden pursed his lips. "So I expect you’re here to arrest me, then?"

Quent took a deep breath and met Braden’s eyes. "I’m a bit busy at the moment with this Cobb mess. Not to mention the lingering mess with Stahl. I don’t have the time to devote to your petty crimes."

Braden’s eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Quent held up a hand. "Don’t say a word. We’ll all be better off." Quent turned and walked out. In the hallway, he met Sarah, who had been leaning against the wall outside the door, listening. He sneered at her, but it didn’t have its usual effect. In fact, she smiled at him. It was sappy and thankful and made him crave a scotch. Preferably a double.

"Get out of my way," he growled as he pushed past.

"Thank you," she said as he stalked off. He pretended not to hear.

************

Cale hurried through the hall on the way to Drew’s room. Although he'd promised Quent he would stay at home and rest, he’d been unable to sleep. He itched to get back to Drew. So after an hour, he showered, dressed and drove back to the hospital. As he approached the room, he heard Drew’s voice. He smiled and was about to duck inside when another voice spoke. He froze; someone was with Drew and it wasn’t Quent. He warred with himself before backing up out of the doorway. He didn’t go far, though.

"I can’t believe you came," he heard Drew say.

"Of course I came. Why wouldn't I have?"

"Well, let me guess. You fired me?"

"Drew." The owner of the voice gave a deep sigh. It an older voice, graveled with age. "Did you think that meant I stopped caring about you? And I didn’t fire you. Not at all."

"Why are you here, Christopher?" Drew asked. Cale worried at the fatigue that came through in his voice.

The other man, Christopher, didn’t answer directly. "I've been talking to Quent about you," he said. Cale frowned at the misdirection. In fact, the man’s tone bothered him as well. It smacked of manipulation.

"Enough, Chris. I’m sick of your little games."

Cale grinned. Apparently, Drew had heard it as well.

"Very well, Drew. I came to say this: I'm extremely impressed with how you handled yourself during this affair. Apparently, I'm not the only one. Mr. Quent has verbalized his appreciation of your involvement."

Drew didn’t answer. Cale smiled. How very typical of Quent not to thank Drew face to face.

"He seems rather taken with you, actually," Christopher continued. "A fascinating study in denial. I would love to have attempted some word association with him, but he didn’t seem very amenable."

Cale snorted in amusement. He imagined Drew was doing the same.

"Drew, I've always believed in what you did. In what you could do. I told you that from the beginning."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Drew grumbled.

"I apologize. I wronged you. However, I can rectify that."

How does he plan on doing that? Cale wondered.

"How do you plan on doing that?" Drew asked. Cale grinned.

"In my desire to protect you from the wrath and jealousy of others, I prevented a good many of your other talents from manifesting. Drew, I always believed that someone like you – so intuitive, so immersed in their models and theories – would be ill-equipped to deal with the realities of a field position. I was wrong. You've proved me wrong. From what I'm now gleaning from Mr. Quent and others, your quick thinking and brave actions were key in the resolution of these crimes. I'm not above admitting when I've erred. I've underestimated you."

Outside the door, Cale took a deep breath. A sick feeling settled in his stomach.

"I want to you to come back. Start the group that you and I have spoken about on countless occasions. I'm convinced now of how much it would contribute. And there's no one else I would trust to spearhead it. It was your idea, after all." Christopher chuckled. "And I know how much it means to you."

Silence echoed back from inside the room. Cale placed a hand over his stomach, wincing at the burning pain that churned in his gut. After another moment, Drew’s soft voice drifted through the door. "I’m just not sure, Chris."

"This is your path, Drew," Christopher insisted. "What you’ve been working towards for years."

Another silence descended. Cale held his breath.

"I’m going to have to think about it," Drew answered.

Cale blew out the breath he had been holding. He pushed away from the wall and started down the hall toward the waiting area.

**********

Inside the room, Christopher frowned at Drew. "I'm committed to this, Drew."

"I understand that."

Christopher drew himself up. He ran a hand down his long beard. "In that case," he said, "I will expect you back in a week. Ready to work. Your doctor assures me you will be close to a full recovery by then." Christopher leaned forward and presented his hand. Drew shook it, although he let go a second later. "Take care of yourself in the meantime. Call me if you need anything," Christopher added.

Drew nodded and Christopher left.

*************

Quent stalked into the room a few minutes later. He sneered at Drew and collapsed into a chair near the foot of the bed. Drew raised an eyebrow in question.

"White," Quent said, as though that explained it all.

"Ahh," Drew answered with a smile. Wisely, he didn’t comment. Quent glanced around the room. "Where’s Cale?"

"How should I know?" Drew asked, although privately he had been wondering the same thing. Not that Cale had any obligation to be there, but Drew had hoped he would be.

"One of the nurses said he checked by the desk a few minutes ago. I suppose to see if some horrible fate had befallen you during the hour he was away." Quent rolled his eyes.

Drew laughed under his breath, secretly thrilled to hear Cale had stayed with him during the night. "I wonder where he is."

"Finding coffee would be my guess, since it’s obvious he didn’t take my advice and sleep while he was home. I suppose he can cuddle up with you if he needs to."

Drew grinned and dropped his gaze to the blankets.

Quent crossed one leg over the other. "What did Mr. Blasters want?" he asked.

"Masters."

"Whatever."

Drew’s grin faded. "He wants me to come back to D.C. and head my own group."

Quent, who had been examining his fingernails, stilled. "Really?"

Drew watched him out of the corner of his eye. "Yes. He said you couldn’t stop saying how wonderful I was."

Quent graced Drew with one of his patented looks. Patronizing, of course. "I never said you were wonderful."

"Regardless – thank you." Drew bit his lip and dropped his eyes again. "That means a lot to me. Hell, coming from you, it means everything."

Quent sighed and dropped the pretense of being uninterested in the conversation. "Don’t get all emotional. I gave an objective opinion on your performance, that is all."

A smile tugged at the corners of Drew’s mouth. "Whatever," he quipped.

"So are you going to do it?" Quent asked. Drew shrugged, but said nothing. "Now is not the time to be acting noncommittal," Quent said.

"I am committed, just not to that."

"To Cale, then."

Drew gave a shaky sigh. "You do know how to cut to the chase."

"It’s one of my many talents. The truth is, though, I really don’t want to discuss this with you. It’s your life and your business."

Drew cocked his head. "I thought you would want to. Since it involves Cale."

Quent clenched his teeth. He darted a glance at Drew before answering in a stiff voice. "He’s a big boy. More than capable of taking care of himself."

Drew’s mouth fell open in surprise. "I’m impressed," he admitted.

"Good for you. I’m leaving." Quent stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his slacks.

"Wait," Drew called. "There’s a rumor floating around you’re getting out of the police business."

Quent paused and turned back. He waited for Drew to continue. After a moment, Drew swallowed heavily and pressed ahead. "Given any thought to what you want to do?"

"Yes."

Drew waited a full thirty seconds, but Quent refused to elaborate. Finally, Drew snorted and waved him off. "See you around."

"Oh joy," Quent drawled. Without another word, he left.

************

Cale showed up ten minutes later. He returned Drew’s smile with a tentative one of his own. Drew scooted up on his pillows. "Where you been?"

Cale lingered by the end of the bed. "Just grabbing a cup of coffee."

Drew frowned at the listless quality of Cale’s voice. The silence stretched between them and for the first time Drew could remember, it was uncomfortable. He shifted on the bed again. "What’s wrong?"

Cale wouldn’t meet his eyes. "Nothing. Just – overwhelmed, I think."

Drew sighed and nodded. "It has been a crazy couple of weeks."

A ghost of a smile touched Cale’s lips. "Yes. Crazy," he agreed.

Drew didn’t try to jumpstart the conversation, determined instead to outwait his lover’s mysterious silence. After a minute, Cale raised his eyes. Drew flinched at their coldness.

"Drew, I think I need a little time."

Drew set his jaw. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. "How much time?"

Cale gave a weak shrug. "Don’t know."

Drew crossed his arms. "Enough time for me to find my way back to Washington, perhaps?"

Cale swallowed the rest of the speech he had planned to deliver. "What?" he managed in a rough voice.

Drew sat up straighter. His own eyes glittered. "What is it? Too much of a coward to just tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Cale choked out. Absently, he rubbed a hand back and forth across his stomach.

"That you don’t want to see me anymore."

"I—" Cale closed his eyes. His speech, meticulously practiced and rehearsed in the empty waiting room, flew from his head. He opened his eyes. "That’s not true," he whispered, rocked by the pain in Drew’s eyes.

Confusion crossed Drew’s features. "Then?"

Cale floundered, unable to find the words he wanted. Drew refused to back down. Stone-faced, he waited for Cale to speak. Finally, Cale did.

He threw out what remained of his scripted rejection and spoke from his heart. "I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want this to end. God, I want…I want us to be able to put this behind us and move on, pretend nothing else exists except this little world we’ve created." He paused and took a deep shaky breath. Drew still didn’t speak, but his expression softened.

Cale pushed his palm against his stomach, trying to ignore the pain that was now radiating outward into his chest. "But the world’s a lot bigger than us."

Drew’s confusion peaked. "What are you talking about?"

"Your job," Cale explained. "The one waiting for you. The same job you told me you wanted more than anything."

Comprehension dawned. "You heard us," Drew said. "Christopher and I."

Cale nodded. "How long have you wanted that position? Three years? Four? Five?" Cale shook his head and turned from the bed.

"I’ve wanted it forever," Drew said to Cale’s back. He let some of his anger leak into his voice. "And as long as we’re being honest with each other, I’ll say that it was an incredible ego boost to know that it was being handed to me, carte blanche, based on the word of a man who pretends, quite effectively, to hate me."

Cale chuckled, but kept his back turned. "You were right about that, it turns out. Quent likes you quite a bit."

Drew stared at the back of Cale’s head, awash in sudden understanding. Cale was pushing him away. Forcing him toward a choice that, frankly, Drew wasn’t sure he wanted anymore. Cale was sacrificing his own happiness for Drew.

With a conviction that rarely manifested when he needed it, Drew made his decision. He realized he'd made it long ago; he'd just never stopped to analyze the reasons behind it.

He looked at Cale and a rush of something – part affection, part passion – filled him. Cale. Previously lost and alone and now walking the path he should have been all along. One of individuality and self-truth. A path he may have never found on his own. So reminiscent of Jim Stahl, a man who became consumed by the bitterness of his life’s circumstances, and whom no one had ever bothered to rescue.

He thought of Quent, and smiled despite himself. Here was a man more closely bound to his duty and principals than he would ever admit. A man who cherished his friendships, despite his adamant rhetoric to the contrary. Drew felt honored a single kind word had passed those acerbic lips because of him, let alone a veritable litany of praise.

Drew opened himself to what his heart was telling him. This was his place. These were his people. Cale, Quent, Sarah, Braden. Also Dean, Steve, Rob, and Elizabeth. And a dozen others he had crossed paths with in the past weeks. This was where he belonged.

He snapped out of his reverie. "I’m not going," he said in a loud, clear voice.

Cale stiffened and turned around. Drew caught his breath at the vulnerability in his eyes. "I’m not going anywhere, except home with you," he told Cale.

Cale sucked in a great breath. "But your job—"

"I’ll get another one. Here."

Hope flared in Cale’s eyes, before dying again. "You won’t be happy here forever, Drew. What can Farther's Run offer you? How long before you get bored and wish you had left when you had the chance?"

Drew held out a hand. Cale hesitated before taking it. Drew pulled, bringing Cale closer. "That’s not going to happen. I have plenty of options. We’re close enough to the city for that. But what to do with the rest of my life isn't a decision I plan on making for a while. I’m going to be too busy."

Cale let Drew pull him down onto the bed. Drew boosted himself up until they were eye to eye. He cupped Cale’s cheek in his palm and tilted his chin up. Their eyes met and held.

"Too busy with what?" Cale asked. The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

Drew leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Cale’s temple. "With you," he whispered.

Epilogue

Drew gave a strong push and the door flew open. It crashed against the wall with a resounding boom and a cloud of dust flew into his face. He sneezed twice and walked into the room, feeling along the wall for the light switch.

He found it and flipped the switch. The light was bright and illuminated, unfortunately, the office’s sad state of neglect. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help smiling at the dim interior. It was perfect.

"Honestly, Marcus, is this the best you could do?"

Drew looked to where Quent was hovering in the doorway. His nose was wrinkled in distaste. Drew laughed as Quent took one careful step into the dusty room. "It has potential, I think," Drew said.

Quent snorted and took another step. "Potential for what, exactly? To scare away every prospective client in a fifty mile radius?"

Drew chuckled and ventured farther into the room. "You’re not looking beneath the surface. It’s perfect. Main room here. Two offices there." Drew pointed to two adjacent doors at the back of the room. "That way, whenever I want to get away from you, which will be often, I can."

"I can’t argue with that logic." Quent peered at the two doors.

Drew quickly moved to his side. "That’s your office, there," he said, pointing to the right-most door. Quent shot Drew a suspicious look before turning his attention back to the twin offices. Without acknowledging Drew’s comment, he strode forward and opened the left-most door first. As soon as he stepped inside, Drew rolled his eyes.

Quent appeared a moment later. Shooting Drew a scathing look, he opened the other door and entered the second office. Drew did his best to hide his grin when a moment later, Quent stalked out, face thunderous.

"Is there a reason, Marcus, why my office is smaller than yours?"

"Size doesn’t matter, Quent."

Quent snorted. "You go on believing that, Marcus. Is that something Cale told you to make you feel better?"

"There’s really no call to be rude."

Quent pulled up and regarded Drew suspiciously. "I want the larger office."

Drew’s lips quirked. "Fine. Now that that’s settled, let’s—"

"Wait!" Quent held up a hand. He stepped closer and took a long look at Drew. After a moment, he stepped back. Folding his arms over his chest, he announced, "I’ve changed my mind. You can have the larger office."

Drew’s jaw dropped. "But—"

Quent arched an eyebrow. "But what, Marcus?" When Drew floundered, Quent gave an evil grin. "Nice try. I know you’ve been in here several times this week. There must be something in there you want." Quent pointed to the smaller of the two offices.

Drew clenched his teeth. "Fine. Can we move along now?"

"Of course. What are you waiting for?"

Drew bit the inside of his cheek. "Did you get my email about hiring a secretary?"

Quent made a sound of disgust. "Yes, of course." He ran his fingers over one grimy wall and grimaced.

Drew pressed ahead. "So you’re all right with who I hired?"

Quent turned back to Drew. "Yes, fine. But I swear to God, if I see one crocheted slipper anywhere, she’s finished. Now, on to more important things. Who, pray tell, is going to put this place in order and how long will it take?"

Drew grinned. "Oh, Cale and I are going to do it."

Quent tried unsuccessfully to hide his surprise. "You and Cale?" he repeated.

"Need a hearing aid?" Drew joked.

"I need a chair before I fall over. I assume you're trying to be funny?"

Drew looked affronted. "No! I’m serious."

"Ahhh." Quent said, but Drew didn’t miss the roll of his eyes as he turned away.

"What?" Drew demanded. "We’re more than capable, you know."

"Hmmm," Quent answered. "So, when do you anticipate the 'office', and I use the term loosely, to be ready to accept clients?"

"Two weeks. I promise. Our names will be on the door in two weeks."

Quent gave one final look around. "It’s acceptable."

Drew hid his smirk. "I’m glad you think so."

"Now there’s just the matter of the name—"

Drew threw his hands up. "I don’t want to start that argument again right now."

Quent pursed his lips. "You can’t open a PI agency without a name."

"Fine. We’ll hammer it out later."

Quent shrugged. "If you insist." He brushed dust from his coat as he walked to the door. "Coming?"

"No," Drew said. "Cale’s coming by after his meeting. I’ll wait for him."

"Another meeting?" Quent gave a dramatic groan. "He’s reopening the mill, not a chain of whorehouses. Why, I’d like to know, does every individual from the Mayor’s office to the Ladies Quilting Guild need to meet with him about it?"

"I think it’s admirable that he’s including the whole community in on the rebuilding."

"It’s sentimental enough to turn my stomach. I’m leaving." He glanced back when he reached the door. "Call me later." He gave a brief wave and left.

**********

When Cale arrived, Drew was reclined on the windowsill of his office. Cale leaned against the door and grinned at him. "What are you doing in Quent’s office?"

Drew grinned back. "He wanted the other one."

Cale tipped his head back and laughed long and hard. "I can’t believe he fell for it," he said when he could speak again. More laughter bubbled up his throat and Drew joined in.

He jumped down from the window and walked over to Cale. "I’ll pay long and hard when he figures it out. But in the meantime…." He kissed Cale tenderly.

Cale responded by pulling Drew into his arms and holding him tight. "In the meantime, you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labor?" he teased.

"I will enjoy them very much," Drew answered.

END - PAYING THE PIPER

Author end notes: To my inestimable beta team – Siren, CV, and Traveling Poet – my infinite gratitude for copy-editing and general hand-holding, but especially for being ruthless and honest when required. Thanks to everyone who read through to the end. I hope you enjoyed the story.