Page 48 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

It didn’t help.

Memories he’d shoved deep into the depths of his mind, where they should have stayed.

“I don’t understand,” Troy whispered, voice barely audible but dripping with pain.

“Yeah, and?”

“And how is this supposed to work?”

“The same way every relationship in the military works! You make it work. It doesn't matter what distance there is.”

And how was he supposed to do that? By writing letters back and forth?

Making calls when they could to whisper sweet nothings?

Yeah, right. There wasn’t a person in the world other than Troy who knew Oscar was gay, and Oscar was perfectly fine with that.

He didn’t want anyone else to know. It didn’t matter if, legally, he couldn’t be treated differently or booted out.

What mattered was that he would be treated differently.

He would be treated wrong. Oscar had grown up watching what happened to those that were different.

That wasn’t going to be him.

“Oscar, don’t do this. Don’t end this because of…of some fear,” Troy pleaded.

“I’m not having this argument again, Troy,” Oscar growled.

Troy’s eyes flashed. “Why, because you say so? You’re being sent off, so you, what, get to say what does and doesn’t happen?”

“You don’t get to tell me if I get to end this,” Oscar shot back.

Troy clutched the back of the chair he stood behind, arms shaking. “No, but I get to tell you you’re an absolute shithead and a fucking coward.”

Oscar leaned back, stung. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re a fucking coward. You’re so goddamn worried about what everyone else will think of you, someone might look down on you that you can’t even be yourself.

You can think you’re brave all you want because you ran with some criminals when you were younger and because you’re off to fight in the desert, but you’re still a goddamn coward. ”

“Fuck you!” Oscar snarled, his hands curling into fists. “You don’t know the first thing about me!”

“I know you better than your own goddamn brother does. And I know you don’t want to walk out that door and leave everything behind.”

“Fuck this. I thought you could be an adult about it, but apparently, I was wrong.”

“No, you just thought I’d roll over and take it.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Oscar didn’t want this.

He’d been prepared for Troy to try to change Oscar’s mind, to wheedle and cajole.

Oscar hadn’t been prepared for Troy’s pain to turn to anger, to slap him in the face and send him reeling.

Troy refused to back down, staring at him with open agony, but his mouth was twisted in anger, his words cut deep, and Oscar did the only thing he could think to do.

“I’m done,” Oscar said.

With that, he whirled around, turning his back on Troy and his apartment, and stomped out the door.

As he gripped the door handle, prepared to yank it toward him and close Troy out of his life for good, Oscar glanced back.

Troy’s face was a horribly perfect canvas painted with heart-wrenching pain and utter despair.

Oscar’s chest squeezed, tearing at his heart, and he slammed the door shut before he allowed himself to give in.

Oscar shook his head as though that might dislodge his memories and send them reeling back into the sweet oblivion of forgetfulness.

The medicine was thankfully beginning to settle in, blurring the edges of his thoughts and making the memories quieter, less demanding.

It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was better than having his head pounding with too many things he didn’t want to deal with, and he sagged back against the couch to let the meds do their work.

His last thought, before being dragged into the oblivion of dreamless sleep, was wondering what the hell he was going to do.

Every time he needed to have a check-up, anytime he was injured, he would have to go back to that clinic.

When he’d agreed to come to Fort Dale, Oscar knew he was walking into a mystery and that he’d have to change his whole view of his military career.

Not once had he imagined he would have to face the single greatest regret of his life.

Waking up groggy, out of sorts, and stiffer than he’d been in months, Oscar blearily looked for his phone.

When he saw the time on the screen, he grunted and pushed off the couch with fumbling movements.

The sleep meds were still dragging him down, leaving him listless and with no coordination, but he had to get to his shift, and he preferred to be early.

Showering and dressing as quickly as he could, Oscar cursed his inability to do anything at a decent pace. His mood was not helped when he discovered it would take twice as long as normal to walk across the base. His hip was acting up, leaving him with a heavy limp as he tried to make it on time.

Pushing through the double doors to the main building, Oscar hurried to the elevator and pressed the button.

Usually, he would have taken the stairs, stubbornly refusing to do anything that would make it easier on him.

There wasn’t time for him to hobble up the stairs, though, not with how slow his body was.

Stepping out of the elevator, he entered the lobby that served as the buffer zone between General Winter and anybody who entered.

The lobby wasn’t as full as it had been the day Oscar had come for his meeting with the general.

The row of chairs on each side was empty, but Christian, Winter’s receptionist, sat behind his wide desk beside the door to the general’s office.

Christian looked up from his computer, a smile gracing his face. “Well, good morning, Staff Sergeant, you’re early.”

“Force of habit,” Oscar grunted.

Christian nodded, pushing up from his seat. “So I’ve noticed. You were early for your meeting with General Winter too.”

Being late for anything drove Oscar crazy.

Hell, being late for being early was the quickest way to get on Oscar’s nerves.

It didn’t matter if it was for a doctor’s appointment, meeting friends, or his shift.

Oscar firmly believed in showing up ahead of time.

If someone or something kept him from that, his nerves grew jumpy, and he got short-tempered and grouchy.

Well, more so than usual.

“I’m alright with waiting,” Oscar told the receptionist.

Christian winked, stepping around the desk. “Don’t worry. It gives us time to set you up before the day starts.”

“Uh, General Winter wasn’t exactly clear about what I would be doing,” Oscar admitted.

Christian chuckled. “I’m always telling him he needs to leave explaining things to me. But he insists on that personal touch.”

That would explain why the general felt the need to meet Oscar instead of just sending orders for Oscar to follow.

The impression that General Winter was not like other generals was only reaffirmed by that thought.

Most were happy letting those under them deal with the everyday work and usually only met with someone when shit was going down.

Christian looked him over pensively, and Oscar tried to hide the discomfort he always felt whenever a stranger watched him.

Where once he might have ignored it or demanded to know what they wanted, that all changed the moment Oscar found himself beaten, scarred, and armless.

It didn’t help that Christian’s eyes were almost the exact same shade of blue as Troy’s.

Christian nodded. “Right, so you’ll be helping me and, by proxy, General Winter.”

“I’m...going to be a receptionist?” Oscar asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could.

Christian winked again. “It’s not so bad, trust me.

General Winter informed me you’ll eventually be taking over training, which means you need to know the ins and outs of the system, the base, and the people you’ll be dealing with.

Trust me when I say being the person between General Winter and the rest of the world will give you a very good idea of what you’ll have to deal with later. ”

“I-I’m not trained for that.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here now, isn’t it? C’mon and take a seat. I’ll get you started.”

Oscar did as he was told, a little bemused by how friendly and passive Christian was, yet somehow maintained an air of authority and control.

The man looked to be in complete control of every muscle in his body, not only moving with precision and harmony, but his expression hadn’t altered when Oscar had shown dismay at playing secretary.

“So, how’s your typing?” Christian asked as he rounded the desk.

“Uh,” Oscar began, looking down at his right arm.

Christian shook his head. “I meant before.”

“It was alright,” Oscar said with a shrug.

“Well, we’ll have to see how you do. You’ll mostly work on a computer, but a tablet is also integrated with the system. You can access everything you’ll need from either one.”

Oscar followed him behind the desk, internally squirming as he tried to figure out how this would work. He’d never been a very good typist, and he doubted losing a hand would make him any better.

Christian motioned to one of the two chairs, set up with a computer and keyboard. “We made sure to have something that might work a little better for you.”

At Christian’s gesture, Oscar looked at the keyboard and cocked his head. He’d always thought keyboards came in one setup, but this one was radically different. All the keys were positioned around a black ball in the center of the keyboard.

Christian leaned forward, placing his hand over the ball.

“This will serve as a mouse and keyboard. You can move the mouse on the screen with the ball like this, and these are the mouse buttons. Obviously, you’ll need to adjust to the new layout and improve your typing skills, but that’ll come with time.

For now, we just need you to know how to operate it and work with the system, which I’ll be covering today. ”