People tend to talk more around me than they should. They see a young guy, a sweetheart, a nice guy who’s always smiling.
If they’d seen behind my disguise, they’d have watched themselves a little more carefully.
I know that I am far more than Elliot’s secret—I’m his secretweapon.
They’ll never see me coming. As a chameleon, it’s easy for me to blend in.
I toe off my shoes and remove my blazer, but I don’t completely strip yet. My tie, shirt, and undershirt come off, as do my socks. I put my glasses on the nightstand next to his. Still in my slacks, I grab Duck, the liner, and the used limb socks, and head to the bathroom.
“Come on,” I tell him. “I want to get a shower before we collapse.”
I don’t wait for him. I’m already washing the liner in the sink when he makes it into the bathroom. This part I know how to do. When it’s clean, I pat it dry, roll it right side out again, dry that, and then stick it on the little rack he has to hold it so it can thoroughly air dry.
“Show me how to clean Duck again.” Of course I remember, but I wanthimto show me. I need him to see that I’m in this all the way.
I need him anchored to me.
We go through the process, which isn’t complicated. Since this is his “everyday” Duck, I’m a little more familiar with it than I am his other legs.
He’s got a dedicated plastic basket on the counter to hold the outer and inner limb socks that need to be washed, so they don’t get mixed up with the rest of his clothes in the laundry.
“I’ll need to put a kit together,” I tell him. “Everything I’ll need to keep close at hand for you for Duck when we make appearances. A messenger bag, or backpack, or something. More than what you usually carry.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “And, like it or not, we’ll need to keep a cane, or crutches, and wheelchair on hand, just in case. Last thing we need plastered on the nightly news is you being rolled out onto a stage in an office chair because something broke on Duck, or you’ve got a bad blister forming, or something.”
He deflates a little and stares at where Duck is now drying. “Yeah.” He hates making day trips with a lot of baggage, literal and metaphorical.
I reach up and cup the back of his head again. “Not tonight, but you and I will do a lot of talking.” I opt to go there. “There’s stuff Leo didn’t tell me, and I know he didn’t push you because you hadn’t asked him to take over permanently. But just like you’re going to wear a day collar for me, you and I need to talk about stuff.”
I gently tap his forehead, between his eyes. “Leo didn’t push, but I will. Youhaveto let me in. I’m not talking about state secrets. I’m talking aboutyoursecrets. I think I’ve proven myself trustworthy. If I was going to burn you, I would have done it when I left DC. We’re doing this, but we’re doing thismyway. I promise I’m going to take good care of you, boy.”
His eyes go too-bright again as he nods. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
I hug him. He holds me tightly, his head tipped over onto my shoulder, and the relief washing from him threatens to break my heart.
Yes, it’s ironic that the guy I woke up resenting like holy hell this morning is now the center of my universe and a man I’ve sworn to care for and protect.
After another moment, I pat his back. “Shower time, then bed.” He sniffles and is slow to move.
Yeah, I know the feeling.
