Carter's Duty - 21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Andrew leaned around as they felt the plane begin its descent into Gatwick Airport, looking at Brody, who was sitting awake now, listening with interest to Will telling the story of the wedding.

"Dude's my friend," he said, nodding to Will in explanation. "A brother's gotta do something."

"Thanks," Andrew said, not quite certain what had been done.

Will smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ever play Mouse Trap?"

It was the greatest show on earth. Nothing on television compared to the high drama of real life when the stakes were personal. The stage was set, the players picked out, and the curtain was about to go up. All that remained was for the star of the show to take his place and the show would begin. Will was simply a part of the audience for it now, a spectator to his own salvation.

The seat Brody had chosen for him commanded a view over the entire hall. It was up on one of the raised platforms that held the buffet table. He was immediately visible to the players but had an unobstructed view of the events that unfolded.

Brody made his way through the crowd to where Delia Anders was talking to her agent. The young diva's bodyguard, an ever-present dark shadow, watched Brody approach and looked to Delia for some sign. She gave a simple nod to allow him close. Even though Will couldn't hear the conversation, he followed their body language.

Brody had introduced himself, a smooth motion for a man so used to talking to women. It didn't matter if they were famous, beautiful, or unavailable; Brody had an ability to appear interesting to women. He was an enigma for them, and women seemed to love a mystery; it gave them something to uncover. But with Brody, there was always another layer underneath, always something more for them to learn. Once he had a way in, once they had nibbled on the bait, he was always able to reel them in.

What he said to her was anyone's guess. He introduced himself, engaged her in some small talk; she seemed disinterested at the start, but his demeanor changed. He became a confidant, a conspirator. He looked over towards Will and gestured at him. She followed his hand and nodded. His hand moved again, as he pointed out Andrew and Maria still entwined about his arm. Her face became serious as she nodded again.

Brody reached into his pocket and, in a flick of his wrist much like a magician's trick, he produced a card and gave it to her agent. The agent took one look at the card and immediately pulled out his cell phone to make a call. From his excitement, Will could presume something important had just occurred.

Brody bowed to Delia one last time and returned to where Will sat; the smile on his face spoke of an evil machination that had been set in motion. He had a confidence about him; the master playwright had carefully crafted a drama and had returned to narrate it as the play unfolded before his eyes.

Will frowned at him; Brody was being careful and deliberate in his actions. "What did you say to her?"

"You ever play Mouse Trap when you were a kid, Carter?" Brody asked, resting a hand on the back of Will's chair.

Will looked up. "I can't say that I have." He shrugged. "Sorry."

"Well," Brody said, "in this game, you turn a crank which sets a ball rolling. That ball knocks a pipe that releases a second ball. That ball lands on a seesaw that dumps a little guy into a pool, and so on, until eventually a cage falls on the mouse." He smirked. "I just pushed the ball."

Will glanced back over to where Delia Anders was conversing earnestly with her agent. He watched as Delia's agent called Lisa's boss, Robert Avery, over to her; the two spoke for a moment in hurried whispers before he called one of his assistants over to go and fetch someone.

Moments later, the assistant returned with Lisa in tow.

"What's happening?" Will asked, curiously studying the play as it began to unfold before him. He was fascinated by the intricacies of the subtle way Brody had manipulated so many people, just one domino knocking down another. It was pure chaos theory, manipulated for his benefit.

"I told Ms. Anders about the little predicament with your boy; she was sympathetic, and after a little fiscal lubrication, she agreed to help."

"Fiscal lubrication?" Will asked as he glanced up at Brody. "You bribed her?"

"I offered to fund her next music video," he replied with a simple shrug. "Sound investment if you ask me. I'm going to make a mint off of promotion rights... but she is right now discussing her options with her publicists... Ah, there we go."

Brody nodded to Lisa, who beamed from ear to ear. "She just agreed to represent them; this deal will be a big feather in her cap. Part of my condition to the deal was that she keeps Lisa as her legal representative. Lisa just got a high-profile client for her firm and on her wedding day, too. Good for her..."

Will shook his head. "How does this...?"

"Watch and learn, Carter." He patted Will's shoulder reassuringly.

Lisa moved to catch her husband as he came down the stairs to find her, and after a moment she had shared the news. The two seemed engaged in an animated discussion for a few minutes.

Brody elaborated. "Lisa just told Jeff; she is reminding him that it was her idea to invite her potential clients. It was a good idea."

Jeff didn't seem that impressed, Will thought. "He isn't going to be happy with her doing business on their wedding day..."

"Ah, there we go." Brody cut him off.

"What?" Will asked as he tried to keep up; Jeff had suddenly broken into a broad smile.

"Lisa just told Jeff how much money they stand to make from this deal," Brody explained. He straightened up and waved cheerfully as both Lisa and Jeff looked over in their direction.

"They know you're up to something," Will observed, as Jeff and Lisa separated. She returned to her client and Jeff moved off to join his parents.

"Undoubtedly, but they think I just want to get into Delia’s pants." He reached out to pick up a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter as Jeff began to tell his parents the good news.

"So..." Will said as he looked up again, "what happens now?"

Brody nodded to Jeff. "Now he shares the good news; that I am financing the video and how much Lisa is going to make from the deal... perfect, that got her attention."

Will noted that Maria and Andrew had joined the circle. "Right," he said, still not convinced this would help him.

"There we go, she knows about the video," Brody said. "That's my cue. Excuse me..." He stepped down from the table and crossed the floor with a glass of champagne in his hand as he walked up to Jeff. He offered a toast and exchanged some small talk with the immediate family.

Will watched with interest; there was no doubt that Brody knew what he was doing, but Will was still missing pieces of the bigger picture.

It came to him when Delia stepped up on stage beside the quartet. "Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, her crystal-clear voice captivating the entire room, everyone turning to her.

"Firstly, I wish to thank Lisa and Jeff for inviting me to this wonderful occasion. You have made me feel welcome here and to thank you I have been convinced by your generous friend Brody Levesque to perform a song to mark your very special day. Mister Levesque has also agreed to produce my next music video, so a special thank you to him." She smiled. "Could I get him to take the dance floor with his date..."

Will frowned. Date? Didn't Brody...

Brody took the floor, a picture of style and flare. He extended his hands and called back to Delia, "I'm sorry, I don't have a date tonight."

Delia bowed her head. "Well, we are just going to have to find you a dance partner. Any volunteers?"

Will had never seen so many single women vying for a chance to dance with a man at the same time. It was as if Delia had said a magic word to bring them all to life... Will had a feeling the ball had just struck a pipe.

Delia quietened them and smiled. "You, in the red dress; this is a Latin number, can you dance the meringue?"

Maria seemed surprised at being selected; she looked over at Jeff and beamed, walking confidently out onto the dance floor. And Will saw the cage drop.

The passionate music stirred as the dance floor cleared to allow Brody and the young Italian beauty room to move into its center. The music swept up as the two set and began the over-extended motions of a meringue. Brody had a reputation among his friends of being an excellent dancer, and his movement like a liquid across the floor, as the music increased its timbre, only reinforced that reputation.

Brody kept his eyes locked on his partner as he swept her back and pulled her close to him. It was exciting, and exhilarating, and Brody moved more nimbly than an eighteen-year-old. For Will, it was like witnessing Mozart perform. Brody swept Maria off of her feet.

Brody was lost in a sea of his own memories and barely noticed the laughter that he offered out. As the music changed its beat and Delia began to sing, the pace quickened and the two dancers separated and Brody began to move his hips faster; he had spent time in the Dominican Republic, he knew the dance well and the dance had been entertainment at celebrations while he stayed there. He was moved by pure instinct now, aware that there were other dances spiraling around the two in the center, forming the intricate patterns that Will could observe from the upper table. Brody swept off his tuxedo jacket, preferring his shirtsleeves and the red and blue tartan waistcoat underneath. Twirling and spinning in unison, Maria's dress flared out as she kept time with him.

The beat intensified; as it became more tribal, Delia's voice rose and fell as she added a voice to the passion the two dancers exchanged on the dance floor. And Will stood from his chair to walk down to the main floor; he circled the dance floor as he kept his eye firmly on Andrew. He collected a couple of glasses of champagne and made his way out onto the terrace.

Andrew turned as the crowd parted to see Will standing under the stars watching him, those striking blue eyes that made Will's pulse quicken as they always had. He stood patiently in just his shirtsleeves in the rapidly cooling night air, just waiting.

Andrew cast a final glance towards the dance floor where Maria and Brody, now pressed together, continued to dance. And he turned his back on her.

Will lifted the second glass and offered it to Andrew. Their hands brushed as he accepted it, and there was a moment of awkward silence between them broken only by the sounds of the dance.

Will finally broke the silence as he lifted his glass. "To mouse traps."

Andrew didn't raise his glass. "This is it, isn't it?" he asked softly, a catch of emotion in his voice.

Will lowered his glass, cradling it by the stem. "Is it over?" he asked.

"I...I didn't sleep with her," Andrew said as he swallowed. "I just wanted you to know that."

Will shrugged. "This isn't about that," he said, motioning to the steps down into the garden, and followed Andrew down towards the gazebo. "This is about what you want. It's always been about that."

Andrew turned in the pale moonlight and looked at him. "I...I..."

Will reached down and picked a small flower and spun it lightly between his thumb and forefinger before he tossed it over to Andrew, who caught it deftly. He stared at it a moment before he looked up at Will.

"I've only ever wanted you," he said after a pause. "After everything we've been through..." He shrugged helplessly. "Will, I've had a lot on my mind..."

Will stepped up into the gazebo and climbed up to sit on its rail; he tucked one foot up beside him and let the other dangle as he watched the man he loved for a moment. He chose his words carefully, the way a general chooses the ground for a retreat.

"Times up, Andrew." He took a sip of his champagne and continued; his voice steady, devoid of the tremor he felt inside. "This is the moment where you have to choose what you want, right here. Do you want to be with me or not?"

Andrew stared back up at the brightly lit hall and then back at Will, torn between two worlds.

Will rotated the glass between his fingers as he had done to the flower only minutes before. It glittered as it reflected the light. "On one hand you have the girl, you have passion... sex." He said the word with a roll of distaste, but continued nonetheless. "On the other, you have me. With all my faults. Broken. Damaged."

He smiled wryly, the mask of the Best Man slipping just enough to show the cracks beneath. "I may not be a voluptuous brunette with an unquenchable appetite for men. And I'm gay, like most distinguished, moderately handsome single men my age are. And maybe I can't offer you a normal relationship, but who the hell wants to be normal anyway?"

Andrew swallowed again, and Will could see the tears in his eyes again.

"Do you love me?" Will asked softly as he got down from his perch and moved closer to Andrew.

His first true love met his eyes, his mouth moved and Will strained to hear him say, "Yes..."

"That's a start," Will said calmly, though the word felt inadequate. "But our lives have changed. I'm not that scared little boy I was when we first met." Will nodded in understanding, convincing himself that this was noble. This was right. He was setting Andrew free from the wreckage of the Major's son. "When you work it out, you know where to find me," he said softly, reaching out a finger to wipe away one of Andrew's tears. "Until then just remember that I am in love with you."

He turned and walked back up towards the house, refusing to turn around. He had to resist the urge to run back and try to say more. There was nothing he could say. Andrew had a choice to make, and that choice could only be made in his own time and in his own way. Nothing Will could say would change that.

Andrew watched him walk away.

Will didn't look back. Of course he didn't. That would break the character he was playing. The tragic hero walking into the mist. The noble sacrifice leaving the stage so the rest of the cast could have their happy ending.

It was infuriating.

Andrew stood in the gazebo, clutching the empty champagne glass Will had left behind. The flower Will had tossed to him—a small, crushed thing—lay on the wooden railing where Andrew had set it down.

"Time's up," Will had said. Like this was a game show. Like their seven years together was something that could be buzzed out because Andrew hadn't answered quickly enough.

Do you love me? Will had asked.

Yes, Andrew had whispered. It was the only answer that mattered. It was the only answer there had ever been.

But Will hadn't heard it. Or rather, he had heard the word, but he hadn't heard the truth behind it. He had taken it as a "start," a consolation prize, before launching into his speech about how he wasn't a "voluptuous brunette" and how he couldn't offer a "normal relationship."

"You idiot," Andrew hissed into the empty night air. Only William Fucking Carter could piss Andrew off that much with his utter bone-headed stupidity and melodrama.

He gripped the railing, staring up at the house where the wedding party was still in full swing. He could see silhouettes dancing in the windows. He could hear the faint pulse of the music.

Will thought this was about Maria. He thought Andrew was standing here, torn between the "excitement" of a teenage girl and the "baggage" of a long-term boyfriend.

It was so insulting Andrew wanted to throw the glass against the stone wall.

He hadn't danced with Maria because he wanted her. He had danced with her because for five minutes, on that floor, he had felt seen. Brody had looked at him. The crowd had looked at him. Even Maria, in her misguided way, had looked at him with hunger.

And Will? Will had stood on the terrace, watching through his sunglasses like a security guard. Observing. Assessing. Detached.

Andrew looked down at his own hands. They were shaking. Not from cold, but from adrenaline.

Will had talked about his "faults." He had called himself "broken." As if Andrew didn't know. As if Andrew hadn't been there when the Major had done the breaking. As if Andrew hadn’t caught Will when he stumbled. As if Andrew hadn’t thrown every ounce of his love at Will in the hope that the stubbon ass of a man would actual stop and realize that…

GOD DAMN MAN!

I don't love you in spite of the cracks, Will, Andrew thought fiercely. I love you because you survived them. I love you because you chose us, over all the darkness in your life, you took a chance on us. I love you because you are the strongest person I have ever met.

But Will didn't see strength. He saw damage. He saw himself as a burden that Andrew needed to be relieved of.

"Who the hell wants to be normal anyway?" Will had asked, with that wry, self-deprecating smile that used to charm Andrew but now just made his chest ache.

Me, Andrew thought. I want normal. I want us to sit on the couch and watch a movie without you analyzing the subtext of the lighting. I want to come home and tell you about my day without you treating it like an intelligence briefing. I want you to let me in.

But Will was gone. He was walking back up to the house, probably to congratulate himself on "setting Andrew free." He would go back to the party, put on his "Best Man" mask, and charm everyone, all while bleeding out internally.

Falling on his goddamn sword, to prove what? He was such an idiot, convincing himself that he wasn’t enough to Andrew? When he was EVERYTHING to Andrew. The light in the morning standing there sipping his awful coffee. The quiet moments when he would do his ridiculous crossword puzzles. The way he would always polish his glasses on the end of his tie. That ridiculous, infuriating, stubborn, willful man. The only person Andrew had ever loved, would ever love.

And he expected Andrew to what? To follow him? To run after him and beg? Or to stay here and "choose" the girl?

Andrew looked at the flower again.

Will was so convinced that he was poison. He believed, deep down in that dark place the Major had built, that he tainted everything he touched. So he was cutting the cord. He was amputating the limb before the "infection" could spread to Andrew.

It was noble. It was tragic.

And it was completely, utterly wrong.

"You're not saving me, Will," Andrew whispered to the retreating figure, who was now just a shadow against the light of the house. "You're just giving up."

Andrew picked up the flower. He twirled it between his fingers, mimicking the gesture Will had made moments before.

He wasn't going to run after him. Not tonight. If he ran after him now, Will would just push him away again. Will needed to see that his "sacrifice" wasn't a gift—it was a rejection.

He needed to see that by trying to protect Andrew from his "brokenness," he was actually breaking Andrew's heart.

Andrew dropped the flower. He watched it fall through the gaps in the floorboards into the darkness below.

"Fine," Andrew said, his voice hardening. "You want to play the martyr? Go ahead. But don't expect me to applaud."

He turned and walked out of the gazebo. He didn't go back to the house. He didn't go back to the party. He walked toward the parking lot, toward the car.

He needed to be alone. He needed to think.

And he needed to figure out how to save a man who was determined to drown.