
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/592329.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Starfighter_(Comic)
  Relationship:
      Cain/Encke
  Character:
      Cain_(Starfighter), Encke, Deimos_(Starfighter)
  Additional Tags:
      Implied_Underage, Implied_or_Off-stage_Rape/Non-con, Homophobia,
      Homophobic_Language, Racism, implied_prostitution, discussion_of_off-
      screen_child_molestation, Victim_Blaming, Explicit_Sexual_Content
  Series:
      Part 3 of Basic
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-12-14 Completed: 2013-01-15 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 10417
****** Things Were Different ******
by asocialconstruct
Summary
     Encke POV of Cain/Encke pre-series AU. Will eventually be Encke/
     Keeler. Strong warnings, mind the tags. No violence or noncon on-
     screen, but extensive discussion of off-screen events.
Notes
     Set during Basic; first chapter is set between Ch_5 and Ch6 of
     Before.
***** Chapter 1 *****
“What you want to be introduced as?” James asked, shutting the car door in Aunt
Morgan’s driveway.
Fifty frowned across the roof of the car at him.  “Fuck, I don’t know, tell her
whatever you want,” he said, scowling down at the pavement and shouldering his
duffel.
James rounded the car and scuffed Fifty’s hair.  Always taking everything so
fucking seriously.  “You want me to just tell her Fifty’s your real name?” he
said, just to tease Fifty, even though he was somewhere in the thirties now,
bouncing numbers too fast to keep track of.
Fifty pushed him away, still frowning at the ground.  “Fuck you.  It’s Sacha,”
he mumbled, then glanced up at James defiantly, squaring his jaw.  Flushed a
little, gearing for a fight.  “It’s not a girl’s name.”
James just laughed at him and pulled him to the house, so Morgan could fuss
over him and how skinny he was and how serious and handsome he was.  Kissed him
quick before the front door opened, just to make Fifty blush brighter.
===============================================================================
“Wanna take a shower before dinner?” James asked, throwing Fifty’s shit up on
the top bunk after.  Tiny room, meant for four little boys in two bunk beds,
but Aunt Morgan had cleared them all out for the weekend so the big boys could
have a room to themselves for a couple days.  The boys wouldn’t mind, having a
slumber party for the weekend camped out on the living room floor.
“I’m good, took a shower before we left,” Fifty said, pulling his duffel down
with a little frown.  He glanced around the little room, looking for somewhere
to unpack and refold his clothes.  Fussy little shit, had to fix his hair every
time after they fucked and make sure none of his clothes had gotten wrinkled in
the duffel.
James watched him push the duffel back up and stand on the rungs of the ladder,
so he could open it up on the top bunk and unfold his clothes onto the mattress
up there.
“Didn’t ask if you needed it, baby, asked if you wanted to take a shower,”
James said, hooking an arm around Fifty’s skinny waist and pressing against
him.
Fifty twisted against him, trying to pull away, but James kept him pinned on
the ladder, grabbing Fifty’s skinny ass.  “Your foster mom’s downstairs, you
want to get kicked out?” Fifty hissed, glancing at the door.
James just laughed, mouthing the veins of Sacha’s neck, kissing his thready
pulse, always too jumpy and high strung.  “The fuck would she care?  She’s
known I fuck guys since I landed here, why you think she gave us a room to
ourselves?  Come on, kids won’t be home from school til four, we got an hour if
you quit bitching,” James said, untucking Fifty’s shirt and running his fingers
over the warm skin of his belly.
Fifty twisted again, though, turning to stand backwards on the ladder and lean
away from him as much as he could, watching him warily.  “She really doesn’t
care who you fuck?  You never got kicked out of anywhere?”
“Nah, baby, what you so worried about?” James said, trying to lean in to kiss
Fifty’s neck and calm him down, but Fifty just twisted away from him, frowning.
 
“Last couple foster homes kicked Tasha and me out, said they wouldn’t take
fags.”  Fifty shrugged, ducking his head, not saying something.  “So we took
off as soon as Tasha turned eighteen.”
“What were you, like thirteen?” James asked, trying to remember how old Fifty
had said his sister was.  “How the fuck’d you get by?”
Fifty took a couple of slow breaths, avoiding something.  “She got a job
cleaning at a hotel, when there was work, and I—”  Fifty cut himself off, just
shrugged.
“You sucked cock for money,” James said, not managing to keep the disgust out
of his voice, finally realizing why Fifty was so good at giving head.
Fifty wouldn’t look him in the eye.  “Or for someplace to sleep that wasn’t the
homeless shelter,” he said, like that made it any better.  “I just—things were
bad, I just—sometimes money was tight and I couldn’t get a job.”  Fifty licked
his lips, looking down and leaning away.  “Didn’t want to go back to foster
care and get the shit beaten out of me or sent to therapy for not wanting to
fuck girls, it was the only way to stay out of foster care.  Thought they were
all like that.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, why didn’t you tell your fucking social worker?”  James’
social worker Rita would never have fucking stood for that, had raised hell the
one time his drunk uncle had tried to get custody of him after Morgan’s
adoption papers went through.  Rita would never have fucking stood for her kids
getting sent to straight therapy or kicked out.
Fifty just shrugged, hunching his shoulders, looking like a kicked dog. 
“Didn’t believe us.  Social worker told Tasha she was crazy when the fucker at
one place felt her up, said we were just trying to game the system.  Said if we
quit fucking up at school then he’d be able to find us a foster family that’d
take us, but no one wanted gypsy trash.  Said he was sick of having us lie to
his face about good families.  Quit trying after the third time.”
He looked Fifty up and down, head down and not meeting his eye like when he was
trying to hide something.  Fifty never told the whole truth unless someone made
him, lying out of both sides of his mouth when he could and only telling half
truths when he thought he’d get caught.  
“Did you lie about it?” James asked slowly, because everyone had heard about
how fucking crazy gypsies were and the couple of tsygan kids Morgan had taken
once had been completely fucked in the head.
“The fuck do you think?” Fifty snapped, pushing away from him then, shoving
James away to get off the ladder of the bunkbed.  He scrubbed a hand through
his hair, turning his back with his shoulders still hunched, waiting to get
slapped around.
“Well fucking excuse me, baby, it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense that he
wouldn’t believe you if he didn’t have a good goddamn reason, that’s not what
social workers are supposed do,” James said.
Fifty just started yanking his shirt off with shaking hands, still looking at
the floor, face turned away.  “Yeah, it was all a fucking lie, we fucking made
all of it up to get out of foster care because homeless shelters were so much
fucking better.  Were you gonna fuck me or just stand there talking all night?”
Fifty demanded, throwing his shirt to crumple in the corner, kicking his boots
away.  Stood there with his head down and back turned, fumbling with his fly.
“Calm the fuck down, I was only asking.”  James watched his back, wondering how
much fucked up bullshit he’d gotten himself into when he’d only thought that
first night was going to be a quick fuck and knocking some sense into the crazy
little shit.  “Any of it true?” he tried, wanting to believe Fifty if he needed
it.
Fifty took a deep breath, his shoulders hunched.  Took a couple of deep
breaths.  “Just forget it, it’s all just a fucking sob story.  None of it’s
true,” he said finally.
James pulled Fifty against his chest, stroking the back of his neck until Fifty
eased into it just a little, still stiff but not shaking so bad.  “Just be
fucking honest with people, Fifty, you don’t have to fucking do this.  Come on,
let’s take a shower and calm you down.”
Fifty let himself be led to the bathroom, glancing down the stairs nervously
until James shoved him in and shut the door, locking it behind them in case it
made Fifty feel any better about getting caught, not that Morgan would ever
fucking care.  Especially not with this one, smitten with the pictures he’d
sent from that last leave, fawning over Fifty more than she had over any of the
other skinny assed boys James brought home to meet her.
He didn’t say a goddamn thing, letting himself be pushed into the shower and
dropping to his knees before James could stop him, getting him hard and
swallowing him fast.  Fifty knew exactly what he was doing, good at this even
if he’d been a virgin the first night.
Fifty flicked his tongue, making James’ knees go weak even if he didn’t want to
think about where Fifty had learned to do it, didn’t want to think about him
down on his knees for rent money or a place to stay.  Didn’t want to think
about that Fifty was down on his knees for the same fucking reason right then,
to have someone watch his back and keep him from getting fucked by every
asshole meaner than him in the squad.
Better to lean back against the wall and let Fifty use his pretty mouth like it
was his own idea, since James did better by him than that asshole Six or anyone
else would have done by him.  Just because it had started out as a deal that
first night didn’t mean James was anything like those other fuckers.  He did
the best by Fifty he could.  
Fifty swallowed as he came, mouth like an angel and eyes like a whore, watching
him come and starting to stroke himself still kneeling.  
James pulled him up, pushing Fifty’s hand away and starting to jerk him hard
and fast, the way Fifty liked it.  Or at least the way that made Fifty come
hardest and moan loudest, James never could tell what he liked, always shutting
down when things got too personal.
“Could you—just once, could you—“ Fifty panted, clinging to him, biting his
lip.
James leaned in to bite his ear, pressing Fifty against the cold wall and
stroking him harder.  Fifty leaned his forehead against James’ shoulder,
desperately trying to hold himself up as he got closer.  “You want me to suck
your cock, baby?” he asked, trying not to laugh when Fifty moaned through his
teeth and nodded his head against James’ shoulder.  Getting bolder, but still
begging like a blushing virgin.
He kissed Fifty’s neck just below his new earring, flicking it just a little to
make Fifty hiss, since the crazy little fuck got off on pain.  He’d promised to
take Fifty out to do it next leave, but the little shit had been too impatient,
got it done with a hot needle by that fuckup Thirty-six instead of waiting like
he was told.  “I don’t really do that, baby, but the second you get in the top
ten I’ll show you a good time, how about that?” James said.  Once or twice
fucking around in high school had been enough to know he didn’t like the taste
of it, didn’t need to try it again to know that.
Fifty moaned, pressing his mouth to James’ shoulder and trying to bite a dark
bruise.  James dug his fingers into Fifty’s skinny ass, rolling the tip of
Fifty’s cock under his palm and jerking him in short sharp strokes, getting
hard again with watching how bad Fifty wanted it.  
Tried not to feel too guilty about making a promise he’d never have to keep,
since Fifty would never make it out of the bottom half anyway, not with the
sergeant out for him since the first day.  Two would find some way to knock him
back to the bottom, even if it was looking more likely that Fifty would claw
his way into the top half, hitting Thirty-two or three right before they’d left
for the weekend.  Two wouldn’t let it happen, and like fuck James was going to
pick a fight with the sergeant over a skinny piece of ass.
But Fifty knew that just as well as James did, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.
Fifty came hard into his hand, and James could have fucked him then against the
wall with how hard it made him having Fifty cling to him shaky kneed from just
a good handjob, but Fifty moaned sleepily, worn out from all the goddamn laps
they’d run in the last week.  James hauled him out of the shower and toweled
him off, kissing little beads of water off his collar bone as Fifty caught his
breath, fawning after him as James pulled him back to the bedroom.
James pulled on pajama bottoms and threw himself down on the bottom bunk,
letting his back pop.  Good long weekend of leave with real food, hot showers
and a couple of quick fucks were everything he could have asked for, last
chance for leave before the end of basic and getting shipped out.  
One last good time with Fifty before things got serious, the last couple of
weeks when everyone’s final rankings got sorted and set where they’d get
stationed out to.  With Fifty at the bottom and him at the top, they’d get
stationed out and never see each other again.  Should never have brought Fifty
home to meet Morgan so she wouldn’t have to fret over whatever happened to him,
but it’d be a good weekend anyway.
Fifty stood there in the middle of the little room, looking back and forth
between him and the other beds.  James propped his head up a little to look at
him.
“What’s the problem, baby?”
Fifty glanced up at the bunk bed where James had thrown his shit.  “Where’m I
sleeping?” he asked, and asking about more than that, James could hear it. 
Should never have brought him home, just made everything more complicated than
it had to be.  Should have just let things stay a simple deal between them and
left it at a quick fuck like it had been that first night.  Just should have
let Fifty do what he was good at instead of getting pulled into all his
bullshit with his fucked up family.
“Where ever you want, baby, pick where you want,” James said, laying back and
closing his eyes.  No point in making Fifty feel like he had to put out all
weekend if all he wanted to do was sleep.
The narrow bed dipped as Fifty crawled in next to him, pressed to the edge of
the bed and curled in on himself like he expected to be told to get out.  James
pushed himself to the wall to make more room and threw an arm over Fifty,
pulling him closer.  James rubbed little circles with his thumb on Fifty’s back
until the tension eased out of him and they both started to drift.
“James?  Sacha?”  Aunt Morgan yelled up the stairs.  “If you boys want beer
with dinner you’ll have to run down to the liquor store, I forgot to pick it
up.  Dinner’s at six.”
James smoothed Fifty’s damp hair down, watching him scowl in his sleep,
wondering when everything had gotten so fucking complicated.
***** Chapter 2 *****
“Amen.”
“James, pass the—“
“Eli, get your elbows off the table—“
“He’s not staying on his side!”
“Why’d you have to put beans in it?”
“At school today Maggie said—“
“Who wants more?”
“I want pie.”
“You get pie when you finish what’s on your plate.  James, help Sean with—“ 
Fifty hunched over his plate, eyes down and one hand on the table curled around
his plate, worse than he was in mess where you had to keep an eye out for the
guy next to you or get your dinner roll swiped.  James juggled helping the
little ones nearest to him with their dinner, keeping half an eye on Fifty next
to him, on edge in the crowded kitchen.  
Morgan caught his eye and raised an eyebrow at Fifty, not looking at anybody
and trying to lean towards James without looking like he was doing it.  James
let him eat in peace, too busy anyway with trying not to get noodles dumped in
his lap until the kitchen started to clear out, the little ones excusing
themselves til pie came out.
He nudged Fifty with his elbow, finally getting to his own dinner with Fifty
pushing a last couple noodles around his plate, trying to look like he was
still eating even though he’d finished before everyone else, bolting his dinner
fast like he was afraid someone was going to take it away from him.  “You ok,
Fifty?  You still hungry?” James asked.
Fifty finally glanced up at him then, hungry and scared, for fuck knew what
reason, and glanced down at his plate again.  “‘M fine,” he lied.
Morgan caught it all, never missed a thing.  “Baby, you can have more,” she
said.  “There’s a second pot on the stove, plenty with leftovers to spare. 
Didn’t nobody ever let you eat til you were full?”  Fifty flushed guiltily,
glancing down like it was his fucking fault he’d had a shitty childhood.  “Oh
baby, no wonder you’re so skinny,” Morgan said, getting up to press a kiss to
the top of his head, making him blush brighter.  
James squeezed his knee under the table.
“What you thinking about doing after the war, baby?” Morgan asked, changing the
subject, sweet like that with how uncomfortable Fifty looked.  “The news says
it’s supposed to be winding down, you thinking about going to school for
anything?” Her favorite thing to needle about.  Baby you should get your
degree.  Make your momma proud.  Go to school and make something of yourself,
so you can help people who need it.
“Never thought about it.  Ma’am,” Fifty said, and James could tell that was a
goddamn lie without having to see his surly look.  
He reached over and scuffed Fifty’s hair.  “You’re such a fucking liar.  What
the fuck was all that the other night about officer training and all that
bullshit hero talk?”
“James.  Watch your language, you weren’t raised in a barn,” Morgan snapped,
glaring from the stove where she was dishing up Fifty’s plate again.
“Yes ma’am.”  He sat up a little straighter but smirked at Fifty’s
uncomfortable look.  Elbowed him in the side when Fifty wouldn’t say anything.
“Thinking about officer training,” Fifty said finally, mumbling to his beer. 
“Gonna go career and make a difference, help win the war,” he said.  Sat up a
straighter when Morgan glanced back at him with a smile.  “Do peacekeeping
after, rebuilding the colonies and all that.  If I can get in—if I can get in
the top ten, and then in officer training.  If they let me,” Fifty finished,
glancing sideways at James.
Morgan brought his plate back, giving him another kiss on the top of the head. 
“I’m sure you’ll make it in, baby,” she said.  “The world needs more good-
hearted boys trying to make a difference.  Now eat your seconds so you can have
pie.”
Fifty stood at the sink washing dishes after, with Sean and Jessi drying,
letting them talk his ear off about whatever cartoon they were watching these
days.  James watched them through the screen door, sitting on the back step
having his cigarette.
“He’s a pretty one,” Morgan said quietly, closing the door behind her as she
came out to sit on the step.  James watched her settle with raised eyebrows. 
“You been making eyes at him all night, baby, don’t think I can’t tell it’s
serious this time, you got to stop picking up strays to bring home.  Just—“
Morgan frowned, glancing back in the house.
“What?”
“Just—don’t get too attached, baby, you can’t fix all his problems for him. 
All you can do is be there to help and try not to add to his troubles, you hear
me?”  She gave him a squeeze, too short now to get her arm all the way around
his shoulders like she used to, but still strong.  
He gave her a kiss on the cheek.  “Don’t worry bout me, we’ll be fine,” he
said.  She gave him a pat on the cheek and got back up.
“Sacha, you get away from those dishes, don’t need guests doing dishes in this
house with all these layabouts afoot.  Get out and go have a sit, baby,” she
said, chasing Sacha out of the house.  He stood in the door with a stunned look
on his face, looking lost until James took his hand and pulled him down to sit
on the step.
“You ok?  You been looking like someone’s about to jump you all night,” James
said, passing Fifty the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.
“‘M fine,” Fifty lied, fishing out a cigarette.  “Just a little too much like
being back in foster care, you know?  Kids’re cute, though.  You should tell
your mom I said thanks for dinner.”
James shoved him, just a little.  “Tell her yourself.  You really serious about
that officer training bullshit?”  Fifty just grunted, getting his cigarette
lit.  “You got a long way left if you’re gonna try for it.  You better watch
out for that little shit Thirty, he’s the crazy one that cut up all those
assholes who tried to fuck him the first couple of weeks.  Don’t pick a fight
with him and get your pretty face cut up, baby.  And officer training is just a
bunch of work and babysitting morons like us once you make it.”  
Fifty just smoked in silence for a while, looking out over the little dark yard
crowded with toys.  Rolling something over in his head, thinking too hard. 
“You think I can make top ten?  Get out stationed with you, maybe?” Fifty asked
finally.
James took a deep breath, trying to find the right answer for that one.  He’d
thought Fifty knew he didn’t have a chance with Two out for him, but maybe he
was dumber or crazier than he looked.
“Nah, fuck it, nevermind, you’re right,” Fifty said when James took too long. 
“Forget I said anything, Two’s right.”
James winced.  
Fuck-up gypsy trash.  
Just another ugly gypsy whore like his mother.
Waste of goddamn taxpayer money, you ought to do the world a favor and finish
what your mother’s coathanger started before I do it for you.
You got knocked down to Fifty because that’s where you belong.
James took another deep breath, wondering if it was more fucked up to lie to
Fifty about this or more fucked up that a lie was probably the first nice thing
anybody’d ever said to him.  “Two won’t fucking like it, but yeah, you can
probably make it, baby,” James said finally.  “We’ll get stationed out and then
you can tell him where to shove his fucking boots when you make lieutenant.”
Fifty laughed, really fucking laughed the first time James had heard, but cut
himself off guiltily, giving James a look sideways like he expected a smack on
the back of the head.  James just nudged him with his elbow again, anything to
keep Fifty from going all blank and serious again.  Fifty gave him half a
lopsided smile, blushing and trying to hide behind his cigarette.
“Boys, come on in and help me get the pie cut,” Morgan called.  “Sacha baby,
you want pecan or cherry?  Or both?”  James ground his cigarette out in the
bucket of sand next to the door and leaned over to kiss Fifty, threading their
fingers together as Fifty sighed against him, relaxing for the first time since
they’d met.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Fifty was a cheap date, drunk off his ass before James was hardly buzzed.  He’d
taken Fifty down to the corner bar, the one where they never checked IDs and
the old vets bought him a beer once in a while.  Cheap beer, torn seats and a
sticky floor, but Fifty finally relaxed, not glancing over his shoulder all the
time or looking to pick a fight with anybody.
He was so fucking skinny, all bone and gristle when James swung an arm around
his shoulder and brushed his lips against Fifty’s ear to be heard over the low
roar of the crowd.  He was so fucking beautiful, pressing against James a
little longer than he needed to every time someone elbowed past them, his
skinny ass pushed back against James’ crotch and glancing up at him through his
hair.
Fifty was a pretty good date, finally gave James some competition in darts,
like the little shit had started doing in training, trying to beat James’
record in field stripping a rifle and target shooting, but it gave them
something to do while they drank.  And it gave James a reason to stare at
Fifty’s skinny ass and the muscles of his back, Fifty finally at ease enough to
smirk back when he caught James looking instead of getting surly.  So James
pushed him a little more, slid his hand up and down Fifty’s tight thigh when
they went back to the bar for another beer, and Fifty leaned into him without
blushing this time, watching James’ mouth.
They drank too much, just like always, but it’d be the last fucking chance for
it before getting stationed out.  Might as well have a good time at it, and
maybe drink just enough to not remember it later.  Easier for both of them that
way.  Have a good time on leave, before they went back to camp and everything
went back to normal.
When James ended up against the wall with Fifty staring up at him, leaning into
him with his fingers looped into James’ front pocket, he finished his beer fast
and took Fifty’s away from him.  Shoved him away to lead him back to the
bathroom, glancing around as he locked the door behind them.
Fifty was on him before the door was all the way closed, pushing him against
the wall and almost standing on his tiptoes to clumsily suck James’ ear.  James
grabbed his ass, hauling Fifty against him and grunting with Fifty’s teeth
sharp on his neck and how hard it made him.
He didn’t really realize just how drunk Fifty was until the little shit leaned
against him, squinting down with one eye closed as he fumbled with James’ fly.
 
Too drunk to manage a button, too drunk for sex.  James pushed Fifty’s hands
away, ignoring Fifty’s pout.  Took a deep breath and blew it out, ignoring how
hard he was.  “Baby, you’re drunk.”
“So?” Fifty demanded, looking pissed and reaching to palm James’ cock through
his jeans.  James shoved his hands away.
“So you’re not a whore and I’m not gonna fuck you against the bathroom wall
when you’re too drunk to stand up.  Come on, Fifty, let’s go.”
“Buzzkill.”
James laughed and lifted one of Fifty’s arms up over his shoulders, hauling him
by the waist to stumble out of there.  “Nah, baby, I’m only kissing your ass
now so you can’t write me up once you make lieutenant.  Just remember who your
friends were once you get there.”
Fifty squinted at him sideways, looking surly and ready to swing a punch, but
didn’t say anything while James paid up their tab, swaying there silent.  “You
mean that?” he asked as James shoved him through the crowd.
“Yeah, course you’re gonna make officer,” James said, shouldering Fifty out the
door into the cold night, wishing Fifty would just let officer training drop.
“Meant the other thing,” Fifty said quietly, not looking at him.
James had to think about that for a second, trying to figure out what Fifty
meant.  “Did I mean we’re friends?  Course we’re friends, baby,” James said
finally, steering Fifty around a street lamp.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.  Course we are.  C’mon, I know a good diner.  You hungry for pancakes?”
===============================================================================
They stumbled home a little less drunk later, smelling like coffee and fake
maple syrup instead of beer after they sat at the diner for a couple hours
getting Fifty sobered up.  Little shit pouted for a while about not getting
fucked, but James squeezed Fifty’s knee under the table, tracing circles on the
the inside of his thigh and Fifty lightened up some.
There was a note and a cardboard box on the kitchen table when they finally
kicked off their shoes in the dark, Fifty pressing against James’ back and
trying to palm his cock again as he read Morgan’s note.  James shoved Fifty
away again, telling him to go up to bed as James opened the box.  
Can’t let him eat breakfast in his uniform, pick out some pajamas that’ll fit
him.  Morgan was too soft-hearted, babying Fifty every chance she got and
coddling him when all she got back was his hunched shoulders and surly looks. 
But then she would never have been a good foster mother if she hadn’t been
soft-hearted, and Fifty looked like he needed some coddling.
James rustled around in the box of clothes waiting for someone to grow into
them, finally found an old set of pajamas from when he’d been fourteen or so,
blue and faded at the knees.  Fifty would have to roll the cuffs up three times
to keep from tripping over them, but it’d do for the weekend.
He tried not to feel too guilty about it when he brought them up and watched
Fifty change, all lean muscle and skinny legs.  Wasn’t James’ fault he’d
laughed along with everyone else when the sergeant picked some skinny gypsy kid
out of inspection the first morning to make an example of, Two ripping the
front of the little shit’s threadbare shirt and throwing him down in the mud to
do pushups with a foot on his back, lecturing everybody else about keeping
their damn mouths shut and following orders.  
No way of knowing then that Fifty didn’t have a mother for Two to scream at him
about, or any civilian clothes besides what Two tore off his back and ground
his muddy boot into.  So it wasn’t like James had any way of knowing what a
huge asshole he must have looked like laughing along with everyone else.  Not
his fault.  He’d done the best he could by Fifty since then.
Fifty pulled the drawstring tight, pulling it almost all the way drawn to keep
it from falling down his skinny ass.
“C’mere, baby,” James said, pulling Fifty down to lay next to him, the drunk
little shit curled against his back and asleep before James even had the
blanket pulled up.  He put a hand on Fifty’s warm thigh, falling asleep himself
with Fifty’s nose pressed against his back.
===============================================================================
It was the middle of the damn night when he woke up later, stiff from sleeping
cramped in the narrow little bed and rock hard from Fifty’s teasing earlier. 
He listened for a minute to Fifty’s slow breathing, wondering if it was worth
the trouble of waking him up to see if he’d sobered up any.
Finally decided it was, only one more night left for a good slow fuck before
they had to go back to camp, and the little shit had been so damn horny
earlier.  No reason not to take advantage of it if Fifty was sobered up enough
that it wouldn’t be taking advantage.  “You awake, baby?”  James rolled over
and pulled Fifty back against him, his cock throbbing harder with Fifty’s
skinny ass pressed into him.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” Fifty bitched, but he didn’t pull away,
and best of all, he was awake and he didn’t protest when James undid the knot
of his pajamas and started shoving them down, Fifty shimmying out of them as
James pushed out of his own boxers.  Fifty almost fell out of bed with both of
them thrashing around trying to get out of their clothes in the little bed, but
James yanked him back, pulling Fifty back to straddle him.  
He reached up to comb his fingers through Fifty’s messy hair, Fifty licking his
lips and watching James’ mouth until James finally pulled him down to kiss. 
James fumbled the bottle of lube out from under his pillow as Fifty took
control, always surprising James with how bad he needed to kiss, aggressive and
pushy until James pressed slicked fingers into him.  Fifty sighed as James took
his time, rocking Fifty against his chest and fucking him good and slow,
spreading him open with Fifty’s cock rubbing hot against his.  Fifty bit his
shoulder, trying to keep down a moan in the quiet dark, rolling his hips back.
Fifty decided when he’d had enough, shrugging James’ hand away as he sat up. 
James curled his fingers around Fifty’s thighs as Fifty stroked him a couple
times, being a tease, thumbing the tip of his cock.  James just let him tease,
let Fifty lube up his cock and decide when he was ready, stroking faster and
watching James’ mouth.
He sighed when Fifty finally eased himself up and back down, smooth and hot and
tight, leaning down to kiss for just a second when James put his hand on the
back of Fifty’s neck.  Fifty was a good fuck once he got over being scared,
aggressive and begging for it hard.
He was fucking gorgeous in the warm light off the street lamp, one hand on
James’ chest to keep his balance and one hand on his own cock, biting his lip
to keep from making any noise.  He took sharp breaths through his nose, eyes
squeezed shut, and James promised himself that if Fifty did manage to make it
stationed out with the top ten, he’d find somewhere good and quiet and see what
noises he could get Fifty to make.
Fifty pulled back, twisting so he could throw a leg to James’ other side,
turning backwards with James’ cock still buried in him.  He arranged himself
straddling James backwards, giving him a sly look over his shoulder as Fifty
grabbed James’ knees and started to rock again.  Fifty did all the fucking,
making the bed squeak with James too distracted watching his cock slide in and
out of Fifty’s sweet skinny ass.  He put a hand on Fifty’s thigh, just to feel
his muscles move, and watched the muscles of Fifty’s arms move as he kept his
balance and stroked himself.
Fifty paused just long enough to get the lube again, slicking his hand to
stroke himself better, and James ran his hands over Fifty’s back and the tight
muscles of his neck.  He was so fucking close, knees pulled up and Fifty
fucking himself faster, breathing sharply, a little moan escaping him when
James gave his ass a light slap.  Fifty leaned heavily against James’ bent
knees, reaching down to tug his balls and stroke, light at first and a little
harder when James hissed and dug his fingers into Fifty’s hard thighs.  
“Fuck, harder, baby,” James whispered, and tried to bite back his own moan when
Fifty did what he was told, tugging hard and grinding into him.
Fifty was getting bolder every time they fucked, begging and needy and
demanding, everything James had ever wanted in a fuck, sweet and perfect and
skinny but not breakable.  He gasped as Fifty reached further down, stroking
the soft skin behind his balls, making him shudder with the teasing.
And then before he knew it, Fifty pressed a lubed finger into him and he came
hard, hands tightening on Fifty’s waist and so fucking angry he couldn’t think
straight.
He shoved Fifty off, flipping the little shit onto his back and pressing him to
the mattress, pinning him in place with a hand on his heaving chest.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, you hear me?” James snarled in his face,
fucking pissed that he even had to say it.  Fifty stared at him, frozen and
terrified, as much as Fifty ever showed what he was thinking.  “Just because I
don’t beat the shit out of you like Six doesn’t mean you’re ever gonna do the
fucking.  You do what I fucking tell you and that’s all, you get me?”  Fifty
didn’t say anything, just stared.  “I said, do you fucking understand?”
Fifty nodded tightly, so tense James could feel him shaking, probably wondering
how bad he was going to get the shit beaten out of him when they got back, and
for good fucking reason.  James made a disgusted noise, pissed off that Fifty
was still so fucking afraid of him and more pissed off that he had to keep the
little shit afraid of him to keep him in line.  
He shoved Fifty over to lie on his belly, ignoring that Fifty had gone soft and
not gotten off.  He hooked his leg over Fifty’s knee to show he wasn’t that
mad.  Pissed, but he wasn’t going to get rid of Fifty just for that.  Didn’t
need to tell Fifty that, though, better to keep him scared and needy than
thinking he could get away with everything.  Fifty shivered and didn’t say
anything, letting James throw an arm over his back and laying there quiet.
Neither of them said anything about it in the morning, when James woke up to an
empty bed.  Fifty curled tight into the corner of the top bunk of the other
bed, back pressed to the wall and looking like he hadn’t slept at all.  James
just gave him a look and jerked his head for Fifty to get dressed.  No sense in
apologizing; they had one more night of leave and then everything would be back
to normal, back to where they both knew the rules and things weren’t so fucking
complicated with pretending this was anything more than what it had been that
first night.
Chapter End Notes
     The image of Cain wearing Encke's old pajamas when they're on leave
     is from TJ's Wading_Deep_Waters, which is sort of an AU future of
     Basic.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter runs concurrent with chapter_six_of_Before. This begins
     at the same point in time that that chapter starts, but this chapter
     ends right before the dialogue scene in that one. Hope that's not too
     confusing!
“Have a good leave, Eight?” Six asked too casually while they sat around after
drill one afternoon, shooting the shit and watching the high numbers scramble
around camp, Two barking out orders.
Only a couple days back and things were back to normal, Fifty just as
enthusiastic on his knees as he’d always been, even though he’d been quiet and
scared that last day, even though James didn’t see him quite as often as
before.  Fifty said he was just on heavier KP rotation, even though James
hadn’t heard about it from Two or anybody else.  But Fifty showed up evenings
looking exhausted and sore, so James didn’t push him on it, tried to be
sympathetic and not feel too guilty that he’d gotten Fifty in deeper shit with
Two by pulling him out for another leave.
“Pretty good,” James shrugged.  No reason to give Six anything personal, even
if he had to keep giving him cigarettes to keep him away from Fifty.  
It was all just a game, push and push back, see who gave first and who couldn’t
keep his calm.  They’d settled out their positions the first week and now it
was all dancing around trying to get someone else to snap first, making like
they were all good friends when everyone knew they’d stab each other in the
throat if they got the chance.  The only black man to make it past Fifteen,
James knew if he made the first move the others would all be on him at once
even if they hated each other, looking for any hint of blood in the water.
Fifty jogged past then, hauling a bag of potatoes over one shoulder almost
bigger than he was, the camp cook hollering down the parade ground for him to
hurry up.  Seven and Twelve whistled and catcalled after him, Fifty throwing
them a dirty look over one shoulder.  Kept moving, thank god, dangerous enough
for him to get attention from these assholes as it was, nevermind getting
caught with a group of them and giving them an excuse to beat the shit out of
him when James couldn’t do a damn thing about it, not against all of them, not
and get himself out of basic alive.
Nine nudged James, watching Fifty hungrily.  “Bet he’s a good fuck, skinny
little ass like that.”  James just laughed and shrugged, no reason to talk it
up when everybody was already looking for him to fuck up, pissed that he’d let
Fifty move up so fast, jostling everybody.  Not with all the low numbers
getting sick of the deals they’d made in the early weeks, bored and restless
and looking for someone else to fuck, looking for ways to piss on each others’
boots without coming out and starting a fight.
“Not like he doesn’t get enough practice,” Six said, quiet, casual.  Just
making conversation.
James clenched his hands on his knees.  He should have just fucking taken Six
out in the first week, but now their final numbers were all but settled, and if
he made a move now and lost, he’d be fucked over when they were stationed out
together where Six could get him with friendly fire.  “The fuck does that
mean?” James said slowly.
“Think you know what it means, Eight, or you too busy licking his pussy to
think about it?  Must taste pretty good after everybody else’s had their turn
fucking him.”
James ground his jaw.  
It was all just bullshit, just trying to get a rise out of him and make him
beat the shit out of Fifty himself so the rest of the low numbers wouldn’t have
to take care of Fifty themselves and risk pissing off James too.  Fifty knew
better than to fuck around behind his back.  Even if he’d been a whore, even if
he was still a whore, Fifty knew better than that.  Things were bad, didn’t
want to get the shit beaten out of me.  Fifty was a dumb little shit, but he
knew what his own self interest was, even if James had to remind him of it once
in a while. 
So James just shrugged it off, making like Six had just told a good joke and
they were just shooting the shit, when it was anything but.  “Wouldn’t know,
but I hear Forty has a good time licking yours,” James said evenly.
Six laughed, fake and hollow, turning the conversation to bragging what a good
little slut Forty was, watching James out of the corner of his eye, sizing him
up.  James just looked back, thinking about who else he’d have to beat the shit
out of to show Six not to fuck with him, thinking about all the times Fifty had
shied away from him since they’d gotten back, sneaking around and avoiding him.
===============================================================================
He went to sit with Fifty in the crowded barracks a couple nights later,
sending Thirty-Six running out of his spot on Fifty’s bunk with a look.  Fifty
looked up at him as he sat, half hopeful and half scared.  James had been
sitting on the other end of the barracks with the low numbers, watching Fifty
and Thirty-Six talk, turning over in his head how to do this, how to catch
Fifty out in a lie if it was true.  
No reason to listen to every goddamn thing Six and Nine and Twelve tried to
tell him, pushing his buttons, playing games with him, hinting about Fifty
getting on his knees for anybody and everybody, no reason to not give Fifty the
benefit of the doubt and let him explain it if it wasn’t true.  But no reason
not to worry about it either, Fifty sneaking around with more and more bullshit
excuses about being on KP longer hours when James had checked up on him and
knew it wasn’t true, trying to avoid him and pretend he was too exhausted for a
quick fuck, trying to get out of his end of the deal.
Decided to just lay it out, be honest with Fifty and see how far that got
them.  Fifty watched him sideways, elbows on his knees and hands together, just
waiting for James to say something.  Shoulders a little hunched like he knew
what was coming.
He squeezed Fifty’s knee, a little threat and a little promise, and said it. 
Quiet, so it wouldn’t carry over the low noise of everyone else talking in the
crowded barracks.  “Fifty.  If you’re fucking around on me, you’re on your
own.”
Fifty took slow breaths, leaning away from him.  “‘M not fucking anyone,” he
said, surly and on the edge of defiance, glancing up and back down.  Hiding
something, just like always, but whether he was trying to hide a lie or just
trying to hide being scared, James couldn’t tell.
“Then quit with avoiding me.  Because I tell you what, Fifty,” James said,
grabbing Fifty to haul him closer, his hand on the back of Fifty’s neck so the
little shit would know he was serious.  “If I find out you been fucking around
behind my back, I’ll beat the shit out of you myself for making me look like a
fucking moron.  You get me?”
Fifty glared up at him, grinding his jaw, and James tightened his grip on
Fifty’s neck, waiting for the crazy little fuck to try taking a swing at him. 
Fifty might get one punch in, if he was lucky and fast, but Fifty had never
been either, and James knew exactly what all his weak spots were.  Even if
Fifty managed to land a punch on him, it would only be one and then Fifty would
be in the fucking hospital.
They stared at each other, but Fifty looked away first.  “Never wanted to fuck
anybody but you,” he said finally, looking down at the floor, and James almost
believed it was true.
“Then you better make sure it stays that way,” James said, and thought for a
second about saying something else to apologize for letting Six get him so
suspicious.  
Until Fifty glanced up and James caught a flash of something—resentment, maybe,
or just plain fucking hatred—and thought better of it.  He didn’t have to
apologize to Fifty for any goddamn thing, not with all the hassle of doing the
little shit the favor of keeping him from getting his ass kicked every fucking
day.  He shoved Fifty just a little as he got up, feeling the little shit’s
eyes on his back as he stepped out for a smoke with Six.
===============================================================================
“The fuck happened to you?” James demanded after lunch a couple days later as
Fifty eased himself down to sit gingerly, wincing.  
His lip was mashed open, one eye starting to swell shut.  Crazy little shit had
probably finally gotten it from Two, got the shit beaten out of him for
mouthing off one too many times.  Twenty-seven or eight, somewhere in there,
picking two or three fights a day like he thought he was ever going to make it
anywhere.  Getting vicious and desperate, fighting dirty and pissing everyone
off with upsetting the rankings.  There were fucking rules, and as many times
as James had tried to beat that into Fifty, the little shit didn’t listen.  
“Nothing, just a fight,” Fifty said, sounding hoarse like someone had gotten
him across the throat.
“You watch for over balancing like I told you?” James teased, elbowing Fifty in
the side, making him hiss and wince.  Bad fucking news, bruised or even broken
ribs if Fifty had really shitty luck.
“Yeah, he just . . . got me good this time,” Fifty said, hunching and glancing
over his shoulder as Twenty came in laughing with Eighteen, laughing harder
when they saw Fifty huddled next to James.
“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ll take care of him,” James said, squeezing
Fifty’s knee under the table.
“No, I’ll—“ Fifty winced, twisting to look for Twenty.  “I’ll deal with it, I
can take care of myself.”
James shook his head, tightening his grip on Fifty’s knee.  This he could do,
send Twenty to the hospital for fucking with Fifty, and send a message to Six
that he wasn’t going to be fucked with either.  See what kind of hints Six and
the rest of those assholes dropped then, after they saw Twenty walking around
with a couple less teeth and a good limp for laying hands on on Fifty.  “Sure
you can, baby, but what the fuck good am I if I don’t watch your back?” James
said.  “Everybody’ll think I’m going soft, so shut the fuck up and let me do
you a favor.”  
Fifty leaned heavily on one arm, head down so he could look at the table and
not meet James’ eye.  Just nodded, not saying something, guilty over needing
help or getting the shit kicked out of him.
James frowned at him, trying to find something to say to make it better.  “How
much longer before you’re on KP again?”
“Couple hours,” Fifty said, flat.  Brought one hand up to rub the back of his
head, glancing sideways at James through his hair, trying to hide in plain
sight.
“Plenty of time for a fuck, then.  Come on, baby, I’ll take your mind off it,
show you something nice,” James said, getting up, but Fifty stayed sitting,
holding his side.  “The fuck is wrong with you?  I said come on.”
“I just—need a couple minutes.  Just need to catch my breath,” Fifty said, not
looking at him.
“You need to get to medical?”
Fifty shook his head too fast, hunching his shoulders.  “No.”
“Then walk it off and quit your bitching, he didn’t get you that bad if you
don’t need a medic.  I’ll take it easy on you.  Now get the fuck up before I
whoop you myself so everyone remembers who’s in charge,” James said, watching
Six and Nine and Twelve watch them across the cafeteria, hungry and waiting for
him to slip up just once, to show he was slipping up and going soft hearted,
looking for a hint of blood in the water.
Fifty picked himself up then, finally, and let himself be pushed out of mess. 
James went easy on him when they found a quiet corner, letting Fifty lay on his
back and going slow, giving him room to breath, Fifty closing his eyes while
they fucked.
James didn’t think about it until later, the middle of the night, when he woke
up to someone was crying in the dark.  Just like every other night, someone’s
hushed little breaths trying not to be heard in the barracks with their whole
squadron.  He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, ignoring it the way he
ignored it every night when somebody was homesick or just too fucking weak to
take it anymore.  Mostly ignored it until it stopped and he finally realized
it’d been coming from Fifty’s bunk.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter runs concurrent with chapter_7_of_Before and Nothing.
He should never have fucked the little shit.
Morgan would have been ashamed of him if she knew any of it, and when she waved
at Fifty and his sister at graduation, James tugged her away and wouldn’t
explain what had happened, sure he could see Six’s blood on the little shit’s
boots.  Fifty had always been meticulous, never missed a fucking thing, never
had a hair out of place or a stray wrinkle in his fatigues.  In his dress
uniform, with Thirty just behind him, James was sure Fifty had left just a
trace of Six’s blood on his boots to remind everyone, especially James, how
he’d managed to get out of basic at the top.  
He could practically smell it on Fifty when they stood at attention all but
shoulder to shoulder that last inspection before being shipped out, lined up
with Fifty and Thirty on one side of him, the new Nine and Ten to the other,
who had been the old Seven and Twelve, glancing at James and past James,
planning out how to take out him or Fifty or Thirty and it didn’t fucking
matter because as a squad they’d all try to take each other out with friendly
fire as soon as they were finally stationed together.
Thank fuck One had the good sense to have them assigned separately, breaking up
the top ten and scattering them all to different units.  It hardly ever
happened and it’d be in his file forever—poor unit cohesion, trained in a squad
with anti-social tendencies, poor candidate for promotion—but at least he was
stationed out alone, without any of the other backstabbers, where he didn’t
have to think about all the promises he’d made to Fifty and all the fucking
lies Fifty had told him.
===============================================================================
Fifty went up from Twenty-five fast, too fast, faster than he’d jumped any
other ranks, and James let him climb up, half hoping Fifty would piss off
someone dangerous and either get put in his place or come crawling back for
protection.  But Fifty was fucking prideful and didn’t ask for help, just won
his own fights against assholes twice his size by jumping them at night, when
it didn’t matter if he wasn’t fast or strong, because he was sneaky and mean,
which worked so long as he managed to avoid letting anyone else catch him
first. 
They still fucked, of course, otherwise there was no way to keep Fifty safe
from Six and Nine and Twelve if he wasn’t anybody’s property anymore, but James
was out of lube and out of the patience he’d had for Fifty’s bullshit on leave,
so it was fast and hard and probably hurt, but Fifty didn’t show it, didn’t say
a word anymore.  James didn’t ask where the bruises came from when Fifty showed
up with scraped cheeks and split lips, and if he was being honest, he didn’t
really fucking care.  No reason to get his ass chewed out again for picking
another fight over the ungrateful little shit.  Didn’t care who Fifty was
getting bruised up by, since the little shit probably deserved it anyway.
Not until he saw the dark purple fingermarks on Fifty’s ass and thighs one
night, then he did care.  
Started to notice the faint redness around his wrists when the little shit
slipped back from One’s quarters in the evenings, started to piece together all
of Six’s hints and Fifty’s lies.  Nine’s lies, once he was in the top ten,
having climbed up on his knees.  
James should have known the little shit couldn’t have gone up so fast without
whoring himself out for it, he’d been too much of an optimist believing in
Fifty, when he should have known better from the first night.  Fifty had only
gotten off the bottom by whoring himself out in the first place.  Must have
started putting out for One as soon as they got back from that first leave, and
now here was Fifty thinking he could outpace James, just like he’d done in
target practice, trying to beat James’ record on everything.
===============================================================================
Fifty started skulking after Thirty, and only fuck knew why, both of them crazy
and dangerous.  They went everywhere together, Thirty going up through the
rankings too and jostling everyone like Fifty had on his way to Nine, so that
James had to punch in some new asshole’s teeth every day just to stay at Eight
and not get dragged down past Fifty, breathing down his neck and trying to find
a way to jump James too.  
Fifty wouldn’t ever be able to take James out by himself, James knew him too
well, knew exactly how to trip him up and make him stumble and make him doubt
himself.  James knew Fifty well enough to know the little shit was still scared
of him, sticking with Thirty because he was afraid of getting caught and having
the shit beaten out of him when James finally got him alone.  
He thought about beating the shit out of Fifty, thought about teaching him a
lesson, thought about throwing him back to the bottom where everyone he’d
pissed off on the way off could tear him apart before he was shipped back to
whatever shithole he’d crawled out of, but he couldn’t do it.  
Even with Fifty and Thirty watching him from across the mess, eyeing him up and
planning out how to jump him together, how to move up from Nine and Ten to Six
and Seven over his dead body, even then he couldn’t do it.  Even when he had
Six and Two smirking at each other over cigarettes he’d bought to keep them
away from Fifty, telling him all about what a sweet fuck Fifty had been when he
begged them for it, trying to sleep his way to the top, trying to get ahead by
bending over for Two like he had been for One all that time, even then James
couldn’t make himself find Fifty and beat the shit out of him.  
Because Morgan would have been ashamed of him if she’d known about any of it,
ashamed of him for not protecting Fifty better, and as much as James wanted to
beat the shit out of Fifty for letting her coddle him and feed him and baby him
when they’d been on leave, all he could tell her when she wrote to ask what
Sacha wanted for dinner the night after they graduate from basic, was that
Fifty had other plans.  Couldn’t explain to her why he didn’t want to talk
about it or why she should just forget about the little shit.
But he could tell Fifty how it was going to be, Fifty due to get out of basic
as Nine, all of them due to be stationed out together.  And even if James knew
in the back of his mind he should have been ashamed of himself for taking
advantage of Fifty’s desperation all that time, for shoving him around when
Fifty was so much smaller and so scared, he knew Fifty was still afraid of him,
and he’d use it to keep Morgan from getting her heart broken over him if he had
to.  He went looking for Fifty the week before graduation, one last time to set
things straight for graduation and once they were stationed out together.
He left mess one night to look for Fifty but came up short barely out the
doors, Thirty following him out and cutting him off.  Thirty stood in his way,
barely as high as his chest but giving him a level look, not scared of him at
all.
“Get out of my fucking way, Thirty,” James said slowly, not missing the little
twitch of fingers as Thirty flicked a knife down from his sleeve.
Thirty had the fucking gall to smile at him, ballsy little fucker, and James
would have been lying if he said he wasn’t even a little nervous facing Thirty
down.  Six would always have a big fucking scar across his chest where Thirty
had gotten him the first couple weeks of basic, and James didn’t much care for
the idea of bleeding out from a fight over who got to fuck Fifty.
But Thirty just fucking stood there staring him down, so James took a step
towards him, not about to back down from a little shit half his size.  
“He’s not your problem anymore, Eight,” Thirty whispered in that creepy fucking
voice, from getting slashed across the throat, or the firebombing, or a gas
attack, or fuck knew what, everybody had a different story about him and the
little fucker never talked about himself.  “He’s mine now,” Thirty said, and
James didn’t miss the way he shifted the knife, ready to prove it, and James
wondered how Thirty had proven it to Fifty.  Couldn’t imagine Fifty was so
desperate to whore himself out to someone else that he’d let himself be cut,
but the crazy little shit had always gotten off on pain.
“Thirty, if you don’t get out of my goddamn way, you’re not gonna live to
regret it,” James said, and they both knew it was a bluff.
Thirty fucking smiled at him again, a real smile, bright like James had just
told a fucking joke, but Thirty’s eyes were dead behind it and James had to
push down a shudder.  Couldn’t help wondering what else Thirty had gotten cut
out besides his voice that made him so dead like that.  “It’s not Thirty
anymore, Eight,” Thirty whispered.  “It’s Seven.  Six,” he said, pointing the
knife at Fifty coming up the parade ground toward them, “and Seven,” he said,
pointing back at himself with it.  
“You—“ James started, and cut himself off with a swallow he didn’t mean for
Thirty to see.  Only one way for Fifty and Thirty to have moved up past him,
and he’d have heard about it from Six himself if there had been a fight.
“Dead,” Thirty whispered with a shrug, like they were talking about the drizzle
due to blow in the next morning.  James shivered with more than the chill in
the air.
James glanced over his shoulder at Fifty and decided it wasn’t worth it.  He’d
never thought Fifty had it in him to kill anybody, but he could believe it,
with Thirty’s fucking creepy smile, with the way Fifty and Thirty both had been
sizing him up for weeks.  Six dead, and him next.
And even if it made him a fucking coward, he turned and hurried away from
Thirty, brushing past Fifty one last time, catching the smell of him when they
were as close as they had been on leave, but with the smell of blood under it. 
They stepped wide of each other, the last time they saw each other before
graduating out of basic, and James thought for the first time Fifty was less
afraid of him than he was of Fifty.
He never should have fucked the little shit, but by the time he realized that,
it was too late to do anything about it.  He got out of basic and didn’t think
about it again, didn’t think about Fifty again, putting it all out of his mind
and starting over with his new navigator.  He didn’t think about Fifty at all
for a year until he found the photos in the bottom of his duffel, from when
they were on leave and things could have worked out different, could have been
something besides a deal, and he didn’t think about why he tucked them back
safe and took them with him when he was assigned to a new navigator.
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