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It’s been weeks now.
Gracie doesn’t know any information, Beth doesn’t know, and Toby’s extended their reach to every single person they can think of, trying to find where Kevin is.
He’s massive, how did they fucking lose him? Was he kidnapped? Is he even still alive?
The only thing Hockins told them was that Major Julius Seya was killed in combat, last she heard, and that Jim, Donovan and Hannah are now together. Then her jaw did that angry tic thing they’ve seen—she had more information, she just couldn’t tell them. Toby got in the truck and screamed so loud in frustration it startled a few soldiers walking past the parking lot.
They’re sitting at their desk at home, slouching, fingers tapping wildly on the armrests of their chair, and one thought continues to bounce around in their head.
They’ve said ‘husband’ more times in the last few weeks than they ever did while Kevin was home. Where is their husband, how is their husband, what’s happened to their husband…
And they just keep thinking: when did this become real?
This ‘marriage of convenience’. This roommate-spouse-safety-and-sanity crap. At what point did Toby wake up and go, I don’t just like this guy, I love this guy. And I don’t just love this guy, but I want him. He’s mine.
Maybe it was the stupid coffee the morning after their argument.
Maybe it was when they woke during the night to a thump in their bed at Claire’s, and they looked over, and there he was, sleeping shirtless on his stomach, every horrid scar on display, and all they could do was stare at him and cry and watch him breathe softly.
Maybe it was in the chapel when he got back from Montana, and he knelt in front of them, and he looked more beautiful than they remembered. And as angry as they were, as hurt, they couldn’t stop themselves from launching into his arms. Had to bite their tongue to keep in the words that threatened to scream out. I hate you. I’m so mad at you. I love you.
Or maybe…
It was on the sofa that Friday before he went overseas. When they wailed for their dead siblings, when they thrashed and screamed and broke their mug and stained the rug, and all Kevin did was hold them. Didn’t try to tell them to calm down. Didn’t try to shush them. No words. He just held them. Let them break in his arms.
Yeah, that was the moment they realized…this is real. And it hurts that it’s real.
They inhale and shudder, eyes rolling closed. What a time to realize just how in love they are with him. It’s like taking too damn long to hug him all over again. Delayed reaction. And now he’s missing, probably kidnapped, and maybe not even God knows where he is or what’s happening to him.
There’s one more group of people they could reach out to. They just haven’t talked to any of them in months now, for good reason.
This is as good a reason to talk to them again, so fuck it.
They scroll through names, skipping Wren—she would tell Kit-Kat they called—and Olly—they never seem to know much anyway. Dale may help a little, but he’d probably tell on them, too, unintentionally.
They go for the one who will keep a secret best, until it doesn’t suit him anymore.
“Hey there, Tallpine,” Justin answers with a chuckle. “What’s got you calling, huh? How’s married life?”
They grit their jaw to his flirtatious tone. “Kevin’s missing,” they reply. “I need to reach Webb, find out what he knows. What’s his number?”
Justin’s voice darkens. “No, I won’t tell you that.”
“Yes you will; I need to talk to him now. Kevin’s overseas, his major is dead, his entire camp was Ivory Guild and they’re all dead, too. His team is trying to find him but they’re struggling—”
“Tallpine, I can’t—”
“Justin, give me Webb’s number or I swear to God I’m going to make your life a living hell. You think Katherine is intense? I’ll fucking show you intense.”
He’s quiet for a moment. When he heaves a sigh, Toby grabs for a pen. “Fine…fine, okay.” Justin rattles off the number and Toby nods and scribbles.
“Thank you—”
“You owe me, Toby,” he scoffs. Toby bites their tongue before they blurt out, ‘I don’t owe you shit’.
“Right…yeah. Thank you.” They hang up before he can say anything else, and they dial Webb’s number. It rings only once—
“Who is this?” he snaps. His voice isn’t at all like they’re used to when they listen in to his and Kit-Kat’s discussions. Usually it’s calm, quiet, robotic. Trying to save face with her.
With Toby, he’s just human, and angry. Good, so are they. “Where’s Captain Kooper being held?” they rush in.
He stutters. “Who—what?”
“You know who, Webb,” they spit. The line goes dead silent. “I’m looking for Captain Kevin Mickey Kooper. He was last seen with Major Julius Seya, who is now dead as hell, and his entire team was Ivory Guild. Kevin is six foot, roughly two-ten, teal eyes and strawberry blond hair. Three moles on the right side of his face, infantry, Red Rover Unit, located in Russia. He has not returned to the United States despite his end of duty day being two weeks ago—so where the fuck is he?”
Webb clears his throat and Toby struggles to catch their breath. “I’ll ask again…who is this?”
Toby sucks on a tooth. They stopped rubbing their fingers against their sternum. They’re outright shoving a fist into their chest at this point. “This is his spouse.”
A heavy sigh. “I…shit. I don’t know about anyone named Kevin—”
“Yes, you damn well do—”
“Good God, you’re impatience is worse than Tallpine—I don’t know Kevin but I know about a new project Chaplain is working on.” Toby picks up their pen again and leans over their desk. “But you can’t…Kooper, I can’t tell you.”
“You will. You’ll tell me everything you know.”
He seethes, “You’re gonna get me killed.”
And they spit back just as vicious, “I don’t care,” and he goes silent again.
They almost feel remorseful; they used to care. They used to worry about Webb all the time, how nonchalant Kit-Kat always seemed with his life on the line.
Right now though, if he was in front of them, they’d have him against a wall. They’d put him in the line of fire immediately—all of them, every last one of them standing between Toby and Kevin, they don’t fucking care. They’d hold the gun themselves. They’re too ruthless and feral and desperate to care about anything else right now.
“Webb,” they start quieter, throat burning from the tears they’re holding back. “Please. I’m scared. Please, what do you know? I’ll take anything.”
There’s a creak and a long groan, and they wonder if he’s sitting hunched over a desk like they are. “I…I don’t know his exact location, Kooper. I just know where Chaplain’s office is and that it’s probably where they’re keeping Kevin.”
“How do you know where his office is but not where it is?”
“I’ve never been to the Germany facility and I don’t know the city it’s in. But Chaplain comments about the sunrises from his window,” Webb replies. Toby’s nose wrinkles. “They’re his favorite, I guess. We talked just today, 09:00 his time; he said it was bright and blood red this morning.”
Toby looks out their window over their desk. Sunset right now. “And…so you think he’s on the east side of a building?”
“He’d be near a location with lots of windows, natural lighting while he…he works. And he’d prefer first floor, so he doesn’t have to cart bodies up and down the stairs. The building he’s in is four-stories high, no elevators; maps are second floor, some bunks are third, and I think tech is fourth.”
His voice lowers as he continues, “He doesn’t have any plans to kill Kevin any time soon, Kooper. He’s been…Chaplain’s been really busy with him. Kevin has kept him busy. Usually he’s on to the next body by now…” Webb clears his throat, and there’s another creak. “Kevin is the Pelops Project.”
“Pelops…”
“Don’t look it up,” Webb says quickly, but Toby’s already looking the word up. Greek myth. Butchered. Taken apart, piece by piece…fed upon—
Toby lets out a whimper and covers their mouth, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry,” Webb murmurs again. “I don’t have any more information for you. If I did, I’d—I’d tell you.”
They blink and find themselves on the floor, head between their knees, fingers tight in their hair. They’re back to earlier in the spring, with unanswered letters and a hole in their chest and a ravaged bedroom when the news blared out the death of one Kevin M. Cooper. Wasn’t him, that time.
It’s him now. God knows where. Being poked and prodded by a devil with sleepy jade eyes and vicious steel claws. Toby couldn’t do shit to save Kevin from his demons after all. They’re just a civilian. Weak and useless, just like their mom said.
“Thanks,” they manage, tears finding their way free. “I…yeah, thanks, Webb.”
“I respect you, Kooper, but holy shit I’m also pissed as fuck at you right now,” he sighs.
Toby snorts and feels the corner of their lip twitch. “Yeah, good, same here, asshat.”
When Webb sounds like he chuckles, Toby’s brain threatens to implode on itself. “For what it’s worth…what I’ve heard. Kevin’s strong. He’s been really strong.” Toby leans to the side and lays on the floor, curling around their phone, pressing the heels of their palms to their eyes. “You’re strong, too.”
“Don’t you dare turn this into therapy, bro.”
“God no, I just don’t want you tattle-tailing on Tallpine that I blew my cover.”
“She doesn’t know I called you.”
“Oh.” Webb clears his throat. “Damn, dude. You fucked up.”
“Sure did.”
“If I’m dead, it’s your fault.”
“Then don’t get dead, dumbass.”
“Fine.”
There’s a smile in his voice when he replies, “Fine.”
Toby hangs up and looks up at the ceiling, the rest of their room. On their back, they can see their friends and family board from here. See Kevin’s sweet smile in the tower that Margie took. See his relaxed face from the Frankfurt hotel.
He’s strong. He’s strong.
He has to be.
They sniffle and work to sit on the floor, and they dial Hockins’ number.
She answers with a sigh. “Toby, please—”
“Don’t ask me how I have this information, but I know more about Kevin and who took him.”
When she doesn’t immediately respond, they’re worried she won’t take them seriously.
But there’s a click of a pen. “Alright, I’m listening.”