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Story: Men of Fort Dale

Marco looked up, afraid of what he would hear but needing to all the same. “Tell me.”

“He was arrested,” Sloane said simply. “He’s been in a holding cell since Monday morning. They’re keeping him there until his hearing, which?—”

“Why?” Marco asked, feeling lightheaded. “What’d he do?”

“Did he ever mention a Sergeant Reynolds?”

“He did. Not a big fan.”

“Clearly,” Sloane said, then winced. “Sorry. Monday morning, he assaulted him. Actually, he got him pretty good, basically beat his ass. Broke the man’s nose and fractured a couple of bones in his face.”

Marco looked at Dean, who shook his head. “He wasn’t brought to the medbay, and neither was Carter. Because I suspect Carter needed treatment too.”

Sloane snorted. “Man’s hands are as hard as his head. He didn’t have shit wrong. Reynolds, though, Carter did a number on him.”

Marco looked at his lap, shaking his head. “Why?”

Sloane sighed. “Said he had a good reason. That Reynolds was attacking someone else, and he stepped in. But since he doesn’t have a name, and no one’s come forward, it’s coming offas an excuse. It was no secret that Carter hated Reynolds, and it’s definitely no secret that he’s got a temper and isn’t afraid of a fight.”

“No,” Marco whispered, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that. Not for no good reason. If he said it was for a reason, then it was.”

“Marco,” Sloane said, far more gently than usual. I know you’ve got feelings for the guy, and you’ve been spending time together. But he’s got a history, a colorful one. Before he even landed at Fort Dale, I got a heads-up about him, and it was amilelong.”

Marco’s head snapped up. “I don’t care! That’s not who he is!”

Sloane’s tone was patient, which just made Marco even more furious. “I know you think you know him?—”

“And you do?” Marco demanded, standing up. “All you know is what a bunch of people have put on paper. All you know is what other people say. You haven’t even spoken to him except to be a complete bastard.”

“Marco,” Sloane tried.

Marco cut him off. “No! You don’t know him. You don’t know how the man he is. I get it, Sloane. You were given a file and told to do your job. But I’ve seen how he is. I know what he’s like. He wouldn’t just attack someone, not without cause. And even if hehad, he wouldn’t lie about why.”

That wonderful, foolhardy man who would defend someone in the blink of an eye without considering what might happen to him? Without a demand for thanks or gratitude?

No, not him.

“Marco?” Dean asked softly, watching him. “I have to ask why you think that’s the case? Don’t give me that look because it sounds like you have a reason, and not just because he’s probably been different with you than anyone else.”

And so, he told them.

How he’d first run into Carter, battered and bruised on the sidewalk of a shabby street. Of the women, of the victim he had helped, and of the men who had driven away, looking just as bad as Carter. Of Terry, his persistence to the point of getting grabby, and how quick, howsureCarter had been when he’d leaped to Marco’s defense. He even told of the people who’d given them ugly looks on the boardwalk and how sharp Carter had been, even going so far as to pretend nothing had happened.

Protecting, always protecting.

When he was done, he sat down, feeling completely drained. Marco simply couldn’t believe that Carter was the person others made him out to be or believed him to be.

It was Sloane who spoke first. “The incident that had him shipped back stateside. That was in one of the reports I was given.”

Marco glowered at him. “I’m not telling that story. That one...isn’t mine to tell.”

Sloane shook his head, frowning. “I don’t expect you to. It was vague, giving the barest details and summarizing it as gross insubordination. I thought it was peculiar at the time, but I brushed it off.”

“Peculiar, how?” Dean asked.

“It...the other reports had more details. Names, places, stuff like that. And I know that whatever first got him booted over here was a military action, and it’s going to lack some details, but even so, it was oddly sparse. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, but now, hearing Marco’s stories, I’m beginning to wonder,” Sloane said slowly, as though rolling the thoughts through his head carefully.

“You think it’s connected?”

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