Bad Company

Hallucinations

"Mierda," the familiar lullaby of the Hispanic accent assuaged the nightmare still splashed behind my closed eyes. My heartbeat thudded painfully in my chest at the horrific scene painting my dark world an ugly red. "Are you positive?"

Someone cleared their throat before grunting out a rough, "Yeah." Immediately, a slight tingle zipped through my chest at the sound of Colt's voice. The feeling only lasted a moment before the heavy weight of his tone slapped me across my semi-conscious mind. Something was wrong, but when was it not? "Dusty called me 'bout half an hour ago with the news, said that nothing else could be done but sit back and wait."

"So that's it? We have to wait for them to make the next move?" Don was beyond infuriated. His tone was sharp as he bit out the bitter questions, but his anger was not directed at Colt; that much was obvious, even being half-asleep.

"Look, it goes against every instinct in my body to let them come to us, too, but we have no other option. If we initiate the next move, the cops'll be all over our asses, and we can't afford a mistake like that, not with all that's on the line right now..." Colt trailed off into silence, a heavy tone lingering in the air.

Somewhere in the distance, a door clicked softly, and a woman rapidly fired a list of numbers to a second set of footsteps scurrying beside her. I wasn't positive where I was, but, by the sharp bite of antiseptic in the air, I couldn't help but assume I was still in the hospital, riding along in the wheelchair like before. Even twenty-four years later, I was still able to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. It was truly a gift.

"The price of all this," Don's tone seeped with unspoken warning, "does not affect just you, Colt. Dusty's been calling me non-stop about the whole sitauation between you. He trusts you--he really does--but her safety will always be more important than your feelings, especially now that her father's gone."

Colt released an irritated huff, and a muffled shuffling noise piqued my attention. "I know."

"No, I don't think you really do." Donatello's tone was chilling against the heated words he just spat at Colt. "This is so much bigger than a few threats now. This...this is war, and it is bigger than we could have ever imagined, and what makes this worse is that this isn't some foreign enemy. This is homegrown terrorism at its worst, and it all revolves around her. None of this is going to stop until everything is set right and the score is evened. Are you truly prepared to handle that?"

A heavy silence thickened the already tense atmosphere. Moments passed with Don's infuriated breathing tearing in and out of his lungs.

When Colt finally responded, his voice was low and intense, heavily weighted with precarious tension like a rubber-band about to snap. "I watched my brother get blown up by those bastards overseas, Donatello. You've heard the story; you know exactly what I did to protect the rest of my men--"

"This is not Iraq, Colt, and she is not your brother--"

"Don't." The command sent a chill coursing down my back, and an involuntary shiver tickled my spine. "You have no right to talk to me like that. I served my time overseas, and I did what I had to do to ensure the safety of the others around me. I did what I needed to do to protect my men and would do it all over again if I had to do it, so if you think for even a second that I'm going to let anybody hurt her, you are sorely mistaken. I will protect her with my life if I fucking have to, and you know what? I shouldn't have to fucking defend myself to you. You've seen my dedication to those who are close to me. You've seen just how far I'd go to keep the people I care for safe, and she is no different than any of those other men."

"You brought up Iraq, Colt, not me, and you know damn well I would never question any of what you did overseas, especially not your dedication to your men. We all had to do shit we wish we could forget, but the war we left behind and the war that's going on here aren't the same. She is not just one of your men; she means something to you that nobody else could ever understand, and we both know this." Donatello's words jerked at my heart, but not in a heartfelt way. No, something unsaid was passing between them, and I wanted so badly in that moment to confront the two but I also realized that listening would probably give me more information than confrontation.

Thick silence permeated the air between the two before Colt's tone softened and his volume dropped drastically. "She's been such an integral piece of my life for so long, Don. I knew the instant I saw her that she didn't recognize me, and Dusty...he didn't want me to tell her, said he wanted to ease her into it all, but I don't know how long I can keep it from her anymore. The longer I wait, the less likely she is to forgive me, and I couldn't...I can't lose her like that."

I was beyond confused at that point in the conversation and totally lost upon how the trail of thought between the two had swung so drastically. I had woken up to a very odd conversation, and half of my mind wondered if I was still asleep. Maybe it was all a dream and I would wake up on Colt's couch with Bandit curled in my lap. Maybe I was still asleep in the back room of the bar with Dannie. Yeah, that had to have been it.

Damn, you know what? It had to have been those pain pills the doctor gave me earlier. Yep, that was exactly it, and I just knew. My voice thrummed irritably in my throat, and I shifted on the uncomfortable seat of the wheelchair in my dreams, sinking lower onto the worn-out cushion.