Chapter Thirty-nine

It's all confusion and chaos, people screaming and sirens blaring and first responders rushing in. Someone pulls Nate away from Reid and he thinks it will only be for a second but then it's longer, much longer.

Nate finds himself sitting in the back of an ambulance with a blood pressure cuff on his arm and one of those ridiculous reflective shock blankets over his shoulders while the EMT bickers with the marshal that's trying to take his statement over who gets precedence - the man trying to make sure Nate isn't going into shock or the one trying to ascertain exactly what had happened.

Because to the crowd that had been standing behind Charles, it appeared that Nate had just stolen a marshal's firearm and murdered a reporter in broad daylight.

So the marshal investigating it - Jared, as it turns out - is being kind of a dick.

But Nate is barely paying attention to any of the circus that's surrounding him because he can't stop thinking that he just got Reid back, goddammit, and now he can't find him in the sea of uniforms. Besides, that stupid cuff on his arm is tight and completely unnecessary; he's hardly concerned about going into shock.

Don't they know how many times he's done something like this in the past? Wasn't that the whole point of the last eight months anyway, that he's killed people before and so has his father, and this was just one last desperate attempt to-

And then his inner monologue shuts down because Reid is there, swearing and shoving at people and flashing the badge at his hip - a motion which conveniently also flashes his gun - until he's cleared enough of a path to hop up onto the bumper of the ambulance with Nate.

He barely even glances at the other marshal trying to block him.

"Fuck off, Jared, or I tell everyone what Ben learned about your little lady-of-the-disturbingly-kinky-night side business."

Jared tries to get up in his face but he's too short for it to be anything other than laughable. "Who do you think you are to be ordering me around, Logan? This man murdered someone and endangered a hundred strangers-"

"Two words - Ball. Gag."

Jared frowns, ready to keep fighting, but Reid's focus has turned completely to Nate. Jared is forgotten instantly, dismissed with a wave and gruff, "He saved my life, you pompous dipshit, so I'd say it was a justified kill. Now stop fucking with my Nate."

Nate feels his chest grow strangely tight at those two words, something warm and buoyant taking up residence where his heart should be.

My Nate.

Reid tugs the corners of the shock blanket a bit tighter around Nate's shoulders, brushing his fingers against Nate's cheek for a second. And then he ushers the EMT forward to check out Nate's blood pressure and pulse and how-many-fingers-am-I-holding-up counting abilities - all the stuff that doesn't mean anything to Nate, not really. Not when he's still alive but not inside, not testifying, not making sure that this nightmare ends today.

Reid would never ask, would never push Nate beyond this point, would have happily run away with him right then and there. But Nate shrugs off the blanket, folding it and handing it back to the EMT with a polite, "Thank you." And then he looks into those hazel eyes, still concerned and tensed from what happened, and pleads to end it.

"I think there's somewhere else I'm supposed to be."

Reid laughs. He's just so fucking proud, so constantly amazed at how strong Nathaniel really is.

He wraps his hand around the back of Nate's neck, twisting a finger into the slight curl of hair behind his ear.

"Yeah, Nate. There is."

*******

"You guys looked good together. Really happy," Ben mutters to Reid as they find their seats next to Andy in the gallery, getting ready for Nate to take the stand. "You know, before the whole shooting thing."

Reid just grins remembering that kiss, the way it felt to have Nate pushing him up against the column with his hands in his hair, the way his knee had slid between Reid's legs, the hot brush of his tongue and the hard tension in his muscles, the hungry look in his eye.

And Reid's smirk must hint at some of the filthy scenarios he's imagining for later, the things he intends to do with Nate once they're out of this place, because when he answers, "Yeah, Benny, we are really happy," Ben snorts in disgust and turns away.

"You're so gross, Reid."

Reid digs his elbow into Ben's side, smiles at the bitchy frown it earns him. "You're just jealous. Now shut your giant cakehole; Nate is about to start."

Christine stands, her hands folded primly before her. "The state calls Nathaniel Angelev," she says, and Nate strides forward, seemingly completely unfazed by the morning's shooting. He looks strong, he looks confident, and he looks ready to testify.

So he does.

They use an ASL translator for the benefit of the jury; Christine believes it'll help humanize Nathaniel's testimony to hear the words spoken by a real person instead of a computerized voice. And it works, beautifully in fact; he's a prosecutor's dream. Clear, eloquent, calm, and honest, never losing his composure, never stumbling over a question.

And Reid can see it. He can see the jury's sympathy reaching out for Nate, he can even see them overlooking the horrible deeds that Karl makes him recount in cross-examination.

They're going to win.

Reid sits in the gallery through the whole testimony, Ben on one side and Andy on the other. And when he can sense Nate winding down, the time for them to leave drawing near, Reid takes a moment.

One little moment to close his eyes, to breathe, to memorize this. To know exactly what it it feels like to have Andy and Ben's shoulders brushing his own when his chest swells with every inhale, to smell the familiar scents of Ben's conditioner and Andy's aftershave, to focus on the warm, solid feel of his family on either side of him.

Reid knows it's the last time this will happen, the last time he will feel this undeniable sense of belonging. And it hurts, a broad, dull ache that he's sure won't pass for years - if ever - but that's okay. He still knows that he's made the right choice.

He opens his eyes, locks them onto the burning blue of Nate across the room.

Everything about Nate is right.

*******

The courtroom seems so small from the witness stand.

Nathaniel can't believe that this is what everything has been about. That this is the reason he met Reid, the reason they'd both been shot. The reason that Cara had died and that Sue had been kidnapped and Ben was stabbed, that Jill had gone to jail and that two of Nate's siblings - and now his own father - had died.

It was all for this moment, these words Nate will say, words that ignited a war.

His confession changed so many lives.

But now that it's finally here, it's just so...simple. He just has to swear one little oath, answer a few questions, and that will be it.

Nate tells everything he knows, everything he'd already been over at the deposition. The memories are clear and he recounts them all.

(Well, almost. He leaves Grant out of his testimony as a small thank you for his warning at the hospital.)

On cross-examination, Karl tries his same tired trick from last time. The one where he tries to make Nate feel intimidated over his sins, to use them to discredit his testimony, but Nate just finds it laughable now. He almost can't believe this worked back at the deposition, that any part of him had believed Karl's lies about what a terrible person he was. Because he has nothing to fear from Karl; he's just a sad, pudgy, balding man in a crappy suit, working with the only tools he knows - fear and intimidation.

Nate glances to the gallery where Reid sits, waiting for him. Nate knows now that there are tools much more powerful than anything Karl knows how to use.

Christine redirects, driving home what a sacrificial act of redemption this has been for Nathaniel, and that's it.

A few hours of signing and it's over; he's free to go.

And there's not even a tiny piece of him that wants to stay for the rest of the trial, to walk into this courtroom day after day to see how the rest of it unfolds, to make sure his family gets convicted. He's done his piece and he's given enough.

It's time to start the rest of his life.

Nate can't help but smile as he steps down from the stand, crossing the bar as he watches Reid stand, climbing over everyone in his row as he makes his way to the exit.

But as Nate passes the defense table Karl stops him, his voice pitched low, threatening him so quietly that no one else can hear.

"This isn't over yet, Nathaniel."

Nate looks down the aisle to the courtroom door, Reid already leaning against the frame with his sunglasses hanging from the front of his shirt, his hands pushed in his front pockets. His eyes are sparkling and there's a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth when he catches Nate's gaze, tilting his head back in the universal "let's get out of here" motion.

God, he's gorgeous.

Something warm and giddy bubbles in Nate's chest, fizzing through his veins until he's beaming in return, feeling stronger and more excited about his future than the confused man he'd been when Karl had known him had ever thought possible.

So it's with a confident smile that he scrawls across the yellow legal pad on the table before Karl, the bold black words simple and true. "Yes, Karl, it is. It's really over."

And then he strides down the length of the aisle, grabbing Reid's elbow and bursting through the courtroom doors, the two of them practically running out of the courthouse.

But - for the first time - it doesn't feel like running away.

It feels like they're running toward something.

Toward everything.

*******

Ben walks out of the courthouse, exhausted, feeling shaky and lost. Everything is different now.

Reid is gone. He'd walked out an hour ago, as soon as Nate's testimony had finished, leaving Ben with nothing more than a wink over his shoulder as the courtroom doors swung shut behind him.

It was the last time Ben will ever see him.

He doesn't know what to do now, or where to go. He's not sure how he would get somewhere even if he had a destination in mind - he rode to the courthouse with Reid that morning. He's sure Janie would come to pick him up if he called her, or he could probably catch a ride with Andy, but Ben really doesn't want to be around anyone right now.

So he just stands on the courthouse steps, looking down at the police-taped section where Charles died that morning, and gives himself a long minute to feel the absence.

The absence of his gun, confiscated as evidence in Charles's killing.

The absence of his partner, by now gone beyond his reach - permanently.

The absence of his best friend, because that's the same person.

The absence of a purpose, because this case has been his whole life for the better part of a year.

He knows, intellectually at least, that it's for the best. He knows that Reid belongs with Nathaniel; he knows that they couldn't have stayed in Kansas. And he knows that he meant it this morning when he said that all he wanted was for Reid to be happy.

Still, the knowledge isn't quite enough. It leaves him feeling hollow, lonely.

And cold.

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets, shivering in the early spring evening chill, but his fingers brush against something he wasn't expecting. He pulls his right hand out, something metal looped around his index finger, and stares down at it curiously.

It's a keychain, one with a novelty rubber cartoon cutout of Bullwinkle dangling from it, and there's an old car key sliding around on the ring. Ben frowns, flipping it in his palm, trying to think of how it could have wound up in his pocket.

And then he sees it, written in Sharpie on Bullwinkle's back:

Take good care of my baby.

(And yourself.)

Ben raises his face, understanding beginning to dawn.

Slowly at first, and then faster, so fast that he's sprinting, he heads for the spot where Reid had parked the Camaro that morning. The lot is mostly empty so its easy to see the shining blue beast in the distance, perfectly polished - and, apparently, now his.

Ben traces his hand over it lovingly, smiling, before fitting the key in the lock and swinging the squeaking door open. He sinks into the soft leather, breathing in the air that smells so familiar, that smells like french fries and Armor All and his best friend. He smiles, rubbing his hand over the worn steering wheel, sliding the key into the ignition.

And when he turns the engine over, there's one more surprise from Reid waiting for him - a tape that starts playing in the dash, the volume cranked all the way up.

It's "Free Bird."

If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?

For I must be traveling on now

'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.

But if I stayed here with you, girl,

Things just couldn't be the same.

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now...

Even after he's long gone, Reid manages to call Ben a girl one last time.

Ben rests his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment, laughing as the engine rumbles beneath him.

And then he sings along at the top of his lungs while blinking back tears the whole drive home.

*******

Andy goes back to the office that night, late, because he doesn't have anywhere better to be. He's happy, though - happy that the trial is going so well, happy that Christine assured him that the Angelevs will be going away for the rest of their lives.

He flips on his office light but stops short in the doorway.

He's not surprised by what he sees; some part of him knew that he was expecting to find this all along. Still, he needs a minute before confronting what's waiting for him.

Because there on his desk sits a badge, shiny and practically new, next to an older but tenderly cared for service issue firearm, and, strangely, a small carton of orange juice. Beneath it all is a piece of paper, Reid's cramped handwriting in thick black across it.

Andy crosses the room, leaning over to read it.

Make sure that whoever gets this stuff next is worthy of it.

And that Ben gets a new partner that isn't a total douchebag.

Take care of yourself, old man.

And for fuck's sake, keep Gary out of the spiked punch at the Christmas party.

Reid

P.S. Thanks for asking me to be sure, but Nate is worth the squeeze. He'll always be worth it.

Andy sinks into his chair, rubbing his thumb absently across the badge as he re-reads Reid's farewell note. And then he tugs open his bottom desk drawer for a drink, only to find his usual shitty whiskey replaced by a new bottle of his favorite, the expensive stuff he never buys for himself. He smiles, wiping at eyes that even here, sitting alone in an empty office, he won't admit to himself are watering.

"Good for you, you stupid idiot."

*******

On a train a hundred miles from the Kansas border, Nate finally finds the courage to give Reid his little rehearsed speech.

He knows from the moment it starts that it won't go the way he planned; nothing ever does.

"Reid, I need to talk to you about a couple of things."

Reid is half-asleep in the seat beside him, the relief of escaping the courthouse and finally having Nate back at his side lulling him into a cozy comfort.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"Well, the first thing is about your badge. I, um, well...I did something with it."

Reid wakes up a bit more, narrows his eyes at Nate. "You're not about to tell me some kind of freaky sex thing, are you?"

Nate smiles. "No. But would you really have a problem with it if I was?"

Reid just laughs, pulls Nate's hand into his lap and rubs his thumb across the top. "So what did you do?"

Nate fishes in his coat pocket with his free hand for a long second before producing a small box. Curious, Reid turns him loose so he can use both hands to untie the string knotted around it, ripping the brown paper free.

"It meant so much to me when you gave me your badge. It meant our future and our love and everything, so I just couldn't bear the idea of having to hide it away for the rest of our lives because it could blow our cover if anyone were to see it."

Out of the box, Reid pulls a small cloth bag and unties the string around the top. He tips it over and two hammered metal rings tumble out into his palm.

"So I had it melted down, and made these instead."

They're large and masculine, unadorned except for two small engravings - a star on the inside of Reid's, an "A" with a halo hanging crookedly around the top on the inside of Nate's.

A Marshal and an Angelev.

The symbols of their pasts, transformed and turned into the symbol of their future.

"I hope you don't mind," Nate signs.

Reid has to clear his throat, his tongue feeling suspiciously thick when he answers, "I think they're beautiful, Nate. I think they're perfect."

"Good. Because I realize that there's no point in getting legally married, since we don't legally exist anymore, and running away together is a bigger commitment anyway, but I just thought..."

His signs trail off as Reid takes Nate's ring from his palm, curling his fingers under Nate's until he straightens them out. Reid slides the ring onto Nate's left finger slowly, licking his lips and trying not to feel too ridiculous when he has to wiggle the ring to get it over Nate's knuckle.

Once it's in place, he finally looks up into Nate's eyes.

"Forever."

He doesn't say anything else; he doesn't need to.

It's so simple because they don't need more than this; they don't need anything but a train to some unknown destination and each other.

So Nate repeats the simple procedure for Reid, and that's it.

Because this is all just an outward symbol of a commitment they've had for a long, long time now.

(Still, there's something mesmerizing in it for Reid, some last question or tension that slips away, some fascination that has him staring at his hand for weeks afterward, spinning the ring around his knuckle, trying to feel the tiny star Nate carved into it, trying to make the metal warm up enough to heat the thin skin of his finger after he slides it back into place.)

"I've got something for you, too," Reid murmurs a few minutes later, after they've kissed so much that the pinched-looking woman that had been sitting across the aisle from them had huffily picked up her things and moved ten rows ahead. "It's not quite as romantic, but it's pretty damn useful." He reaches into his coat pocket and tosses a new passport in Nate's lap. "We've got to go international this time, Nate - from prison, your family won't have much power overseas."

Nate thumbs through the passport. It looks completely legal and bears a recent photo that he has no idea how Reid acquired.

"I agree, we should leave the country," he finally says. "Which leads me to the other thing I had to talk to you about."

Reid keeps eyeing his new ring, spinning it with his thumb. "Will I like this as much as I liked the last one?"

"Possibly. Perhaps even more." Nate tucks his passport away, fixing Reid with a careful stare as he shares his very last secret.

"I still have some things. From...before. Money, and there were some drugs and weapons, but I got rid of those. Most of the money is gone, too; I sent it to the families of Angelev victims. It won't make up for anything, but at least it will help."

"I think that's really good, Nate. That was the right thing," Reid says.

Nate nods, a tiny grateful smile gracing his lips for a second before he continues.

"There's still plenty for us to live on for a long time, especially since I...I own a house. A place where we can go. I bought it years ago, under a different name and with cash, so no one knows it exists. It was when I thought I might have to one day run from the cops-"

"-instead of running away with one."

"Yes," Nate says, squeezing Reid's strong, warm forearm for a moment to make sure that this is real, that this is actually happening. "Isn't life strange?"

Reid slings his free arm behind Nate's shoulders, brushing a kiss across his temple, and they just sit for a long moment, feeling the peace of being together and the train bumping along rhythmically beneath their feet.

"So," Reid finally asks,  "Where are we going?"

Nate can hear the even thud of Reid's heart under his ear, feels the tug of the smile twisting his own mouth.

"How do you feel about the South Pacific?"