Page 42 of Whisper

David waited for him outside the compound, hovering by the dusty glass doors leading to the dirt courtyard and fire pit. He was like a gargoyle without a ledge, waves of morose frustration coming off him. His frown lines were etched deep into his face, canyons that held something dark, something secret.

George’s admission repeated inside Kris’s skull.I asked Sergeant Haddad to look out for you… taken his protection for something it’s not.

He hadn’t hoped for anything with David, except for maybe a friend. But that in itself was too much, too audacious a wish. He’d forgotten the rules of the world: he wasn’t allowed to befriend these men. He wasn’t allowed to befriend any men.

“What happened?” David pounced as soon as he fled the compound, falling into step with Kris as he thundered across the cold dirt.

He just had to go, walk away, be alone. Not let anyone see how much it hurt. Or they’d win again. They’d always win.

“Don’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“Kris, something happened. What? What did they say to you?”

“Sergeant, it’s fine—”

“Sergeant?”

Kris slipped around the edge of the stables and collapsed against the mudbrick wall. He threw his head back, staring up at the peaks encased in ice and dusted with snow, down almost to their compound. Another week or two, and they’d be getting snow falling on their heads. But he wouldn’t be there to see it.

David followed, standing too close. He hadn’t stopped staring at Kris, peering at him like he was trying to decipher a riddle, read the way Kris fought to keep his chin from trembling, stop his hands from clenching. “I thought we were past ‘sergeant’.”

“George told me about your agreement. That he asked you to keep an eye on me.” Kris exhaled slowly. His fingers scraped the wall behind him. “It’s fine, I understand. I appreciate all you did. But—”

David’s frown, if possible, grew deeper. There was an intensity to him, a star hovering on the edge of a supernova, as if everything that he was had compacted deep down inside his body. Rarely, so rarely, parts of him escaped, solar flares thrown off, intense enough to fry the sky. Kris had only seen hints of that intensity.

“Sergeant, you don’t have to do this anymore. I’m going home. They’re sending me back.”

“What?” The world narrowed to David, to his shock, the way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He stepped closer, almost boxing Kris in against the wall. Kris tried to shift away.

“They’re sending me back.” His voice went thin. He grunted, dug his fingers deeper. “I’m leaving. As soon as they can get me out of here.”

“Why?”

Kris laughed, hysteria straining through him. “Because they think my cultural sensitivity is inviting sexual assault. That it’s too risky having an openly gay officer here. That I’m too close to you, and the Afghans will see that. I’m gay, and that’sthefucking problem. For everyone. They don’t want to worry about me, they say.” Dry mud flaked from the wall, coming apart beneath his fingernails. Like the dirt, his control crumbled, and Kris felt the first sob bubble up in his chest.

No, not in front of David. Let him keep a sliver, a shred of dignity. Just one tiny piece.

“That’s bullshit!” Rage poured off David, an explosion of it, the sun shedding its outer layers. Kris could almost feel the heat, the power. “You’re the best officer the CIA has in-country. You get the Afghans, more than George and Ryan combined. You know the culture. General Khan respects you. You were his honored guest at the front!”

“Even if I told them all that, they wouldn’t listen.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“Their minds are made up. They don’t want me here.”

David’s jaw squared and set. He pulled back. Glared over Kris’s head, over the roof to the compound beyond. “Then I’m telling them. They need to know what you did.”

“Sergeant, please. Don’t.” Kris grabbed David’s arm, trying to stop him. It was like trying to stop a bull. “Don’t make this worse,” Kris called after him.

“How can it be worse? They’re sending away their expert. You leaving would be the worst thing for the mission. The absolute worst thing.”

“Won’t you be glad you don’t have to babysit me anymore?”

That stopped him. David spun, the fury on his face darker, the edges of his scowl harder. “I do not babysit you!”

“You were told to watch out for me—”

“I was already watching you. Before they asked.”