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It happens just the way Geoff imagines it would happen.
That is to say - it happens the way Geoff imagines it might happen when he’s hopped up on a little too much sugar and daydreaming.
That is to say - it happens like a cheesy TV show.
Geoff’s on his knees, trying to drag up whatever remains in his memory from the lock-picking class he went to when he was seventeen and pretending to be Sherlock Holmes. He’s just heard the third click when Nic’s hand seizes on his shoulder and yanks him upright. “Someone’s coming,” Nic hisses from where he’s pressed all along Geoff’s back.
There are footsteps coming from around the corner, and Geoff manages to get the two of them wedged into the tight space between Cameron Ellis’ house and the one next door.
Nic’s hand is still knotted in the material of Geoff’s shirt as they hear the footsteps turn the other way. Geoff barely has time to breathe a sigh of relief before someone else comes the other goddamn way, the way that can see straight into their little cubbyhole.
“What do we do?” Nic breathes, tightening his grip even further, and damn if that isn’t inspirational.
“I have an idea,” Geoff answers, and Nic, thank fuck, gets it and reaches up to kiss him right as the woman looks over.
Nic finally lets go of his shirt to slide a hand up his neck, and Geoff settles his on Nic’s waist, and the kiss goes on for at least ten seconds longer than verisimilitude demands.
“Huh,” Nic says when they finally separate. “That’s going to need some thinking about.” His hand is still on Geoff’s neck.
“Well, don’t do me any favors,” Geoff says, his warm fuzzies evaporating.
“That’s not -” Nic cuts himself off and starts again. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Rather than lifting his hand straight off Geoff’s skin, Nic lets it slide down back over his shoulder and off his arm.
Geoff pushes a smile back onto his face. “No worries, buddy. It’s all good. Come on,” he adds, stepping back out into the street. “I think I’ve remembered the trick to it.”
Sure enough, they’re inside Cameron Ellis’ house within seventeen seconds, and they’re back out again in thirteen minutes, a fuckton of new pictures on Nic’s phone.
Nic bids him farewell at the corner three blocks down, and almost immediately Geoff’s phone buzzes.
I’m so embarrassed for u rn, reads the text from the unlisted number.
Geoff huffs a laugh and looks up, finding the nearest security camera and flipping MK off.
If it helps, I’m embarrassed for him 2. But when am I not embarrassed for him, honestly. U usually have more dignity.
Clearly you’ve never seen me play flag football, he texts back, and sets off towards his car.
--
“Good morning, Geoff,” his therapist says, the moment the clock strikes three.
“Good morning, Dr. Carloff. Does a clock strike the time if it doesn’t make a noise, or does it just, I dunno, tick over or something?”
The reason Geoff’s been going to Dr. Carloff for over a year is that she’s the first therapist the army sent him to that doesn’t blink no matter what shit comes out of his mouth. “I’d imagine either phraseology would work - the striking would be metaphorical, which by now is probably linguistically acceptable.” She smiles. “What’s got you thinking about striking?”
He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Good one! Nice transition. I’ve been having dreams.” She raises an eyebrow. “Bad dreams.”
“That’s not new.”
He nods, conceding the point. “True! But they’ve been bothering me more.”
Her brow furrows. “Has the imagery changed?”
“No, not really. Creepy-ass trees, maps, and a voice telling me to wake up. Just like when I got hurt overseas,” he adds, before she can. There had been trees that time, too, and someone shouting in his ear to wake up, it wasn’t time to die just yet. “But I’ve been more... I dunno, shaken, when I wake up lately. Started drawing again.”
“May I see?” Geoff pulls the sketchbook from his jacket pocket and hands it to her. It’s still got some dust on the cover from where it’d been shoved to the back of his bookcase for the better part of a year. Dr. Carloff flips through it. “Creepy-ass trees and maps, there they are,” she says.
“Just missing the voice,” he agrees. The voice in his dreams is different now too, but he doesn’t mention that. It used to be Edwards’ voice, who had dragged him back behind the firing line and slapped him to wake him up; now it’s like Edwards’ voice on helium, creepy and almost childlike.
Geoff spaces out for a moment, thinking about it, and snaps back to himself as Dr. Carloff hands the sketchbook back to him. She notices, for sure, but lets him slide on it.
--
Hello van Sant.
Are you ready?
Be ready, van Sant.
--
Geoff gets a call from another unlisted number three days later, right as he’s stepping out for a smoke break.
“I feel lied to,” MK says in his ear. “I can’t find a single video of you playing flag football anywhere. And I’ve searched.”
“Did you search outside the continent?” Geoff answers. “Because there’s at least one crappy iPad video out there.”
MK is silent for three seconds. “I would’ve gotten there eventually. And download fucking Skype, I hate using actual phones.” She hangs up.
That night, Geoff makes a few phone calls to a few buddies, and downloads Skype. Into his profile, he types Next Sunday. 3pm. Behind the vets bar. He goes to take a shower, and when he comes back his icon has been changed to a thumbs-up emoji.
Come Sunday, Geoff is stretching behind the veteran’s bar, shooting shit with Seth the pararescue guy missing his left hand, and casually scanning the crowd. He’s invited Nic, of course, but given that Nic hasn’t contacted him since their impromptu makeout session, Geoff’s hopes aren’t high.
“Who’re you lookin’ for, then, Geoffy?” Seth asks, slapping an arm around Geoff’s shoulders as Martin, their appointed ref for the game, moves towards the center of the field. “Some last-minute talent comin’ to save you?”
“Looking for your mom, she said she’d come cheer me on,” Geoff retorts. Seth sticks out his tongue and jogs to join the other team, and Geoff sees Nic walk up and wave.
By the time the game’s over, everyone’s covered in dirt and grass, Geoff is wearing a necklace made of blue flags and bleeding from three different places, and Nic is crying with laughter. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Nic wheezes when Geoff jogs over.
“How dare you, man. Flag football is a sacred sport that we take seriously here.” Geoff grabs a Gatorade from the cooler at the foot of the bleachers and sinks down next to Nic. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.”
“Your text said, and I quote: ‘Gonna make a fool out of myself for MK’s amusement.’ How could I resist?” Nic grins, and then catches Geoff’s eye. “I know what you mean. We should talk.”
“Probs,” Geoff agrees, and after Nic stops snorting he adds, “I’m starving. You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Great.” Geoff stands. “There’s a food cart around the corner, let’s walk and have the ‘what are we’ talk with hot meat products.”
“Sexy,” Nic says dryly, standing and following Geoff to the sidewalk.
They eat in Nic’s car, windows rolled down and dashboard covered in napkins. Geoff lets Nic half his falafel wrap before he says, “So. What are we, then?”
“Teenagers, apparently,” Nic answers, and then sobers up. “Okay. So, first off, sorry for giving you the impression that I’m not into you the other day.”
“That’s not exactly the impression that I got,” Geoff says. “What with your tongue down my throat and all.”
Nic gives his self-deprecating little half-laugh and says, “Okay, fair enough. Sorry for reacting badly, then. It just took me by surprise, is all.”
“What, being into me?” Geoff asks. Nic nods. “Not usually into guys, then?”
“Not usually into anyone, actually,” Nic says, and oh , that makes a lot of sense. “It’s not that it’s never happened,” he goes on after another bite of wrap and sip of water. “Just - It’s fairly infrequent, and I didn’t notice that it was happening again until, well...”
“Until we made out to avoid the law,” Geoff supplies. They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Geoff asks, “How infrequent is fairly infrequent? If that’s alright to ask.”
“It’s probably not, but I don’t mind.” Nic swallows down the last of his wrap and wipes his mouth before answering. “I don’t know if you listen to any other Pacific Northwest Stories podcasts, but one of Alex’s consultants, Amalia, and I dated for a while a few years back. Before her, just one guy in college.”
“Huh.” Geoff considers this. “I’m honored.” Nic snorts, and Geoff grins. “Alright, I guess that explains why you weren’t paying enough attention to realize how totally into me you are. You are, right?” he asks, pointing at him.
“Totally into you,” Nic answers, and now both of them are grinning.
“So we’re doing this?”
“I think we’re doing this.”
“ Awesome .”
Geoff goes home after lunch, opens his laptop, and clicks into his searchbar. Gotta Google some things that may out somebody, so buzz off for an hour if you’re monitoring me.
He waits, and then slowly his words delete themselves and MK writes: If it’s about our mutual friend, I already know, but kudos for thinking of it. You can have two hours.
Geoff thinks about asking why her typing style is so variable, but instead he just enters demisexuality and starts clicking.
--
Van Sant.
Van Saaaaaaaant!
It’s coming, van Sant.
Be ready.
--
Nic calls him right as Geoff walks out of the shower. “Your timing is kinda freaky, buddy,” Geoff says in lieu of a greeting. “Is MK reporting to you on my movements or something?”
“Or something.” Geoff can hear the smile in Nic’s voice. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I’ve got some Thai leftovers and ice cream that need eating.”
“Wanna skip it and come bowling?”
Geoff whistles. “Bowling! You make a compelling argument, my guy. Bowling’s pretty sweet.”
“Alex wants to go, and she’s roped the intern in as well. Join us?”
“Name the time and place. I’ll come kick your asses.”
“You’re not allowed,” Nic says. “I’m your guy, you’re not allowed to beat me.”
Geoff laughs, loud enough to startle the cat. “There’s no love in bowling, Nic. I’m sorry you had to learn it like this.”
Nic texts him the details, and Geoff pulls into the bowling alley at quarter to seven to find the three of them already shoed and selecting balls. Stacey, the intern, is a bubbly brunette who proceeds to bowl three strikes out of five and is promptly fired by both of her bosses. “Next round’s on me,” Stacey stays, and darts off to refill their french fry container while Nic steps up to the lane.
“Save the receipts, we’ll reimburse you!” Alex shouts after her, and turns to Geoff. “So, Geoff,” she says, and he can hear the shift in her voice as she turns on her inner journalist. “What are your intentions with our fair Nic?”
“I plan to kick his ass in bowling, even if I can’t best your intern,” Geoff says - “ Former intern,” Alex and Nic both shout, even though Nic shouldn’t be listening - “and then I thought we’d skip straight to the marriage and babies part.”
“Hmm.” Alex taps her finger against her mouth. “You’ve never seen Nic around a small child, have you?” Geoff shakes his head. “It isn’t pretty. But your heart’s in the right place, I think. You’ll do.”
“Did I just pass the best friend test?” Geoff asks.
“For now,” Alex replies, patting him on the knee and standing up.
--
Wake up, van Sant.
Wake up, it isn’t time yet.
But soon. Pay attention, van Sant.
Pay attention.
Van Sant, pay attention.
Brace yourself.
--
Nic texts Geoff halfway through the afternoon one Thursday. This day is fired.
Fired like an intern who’s better at bowling than you? Geoff replies and swings his grocery cart back around to the liquor section.
His phone buzzes again. Fired even harder than such an intern. Fired into the sun.
Come over tonight , Geoff types. Makeouts and cuddles.
There’s no reply for a few minutes, and then Geoff’s phone rings. “Please tell me you mean that seriously.”
“Dude, I never joke about stuff like that. Beer, pizza, makeouts, and cuddles are one hundred percent on offer.” Geoff reaches into the cooler and pulls out a six-pack of Nic’s brand, nudging a space clear between the chicken and rice with a corner of the box..
“That sounds amazing.” Nic pauses, and Geoff can hear the grin on his face when he says, “I thought you’d be too bro-y for cuddles, I have to admit.”
“Nic. My man. My guy. Cuddling is literally the bro-iest of activities.”
“How so?”
“It’s a person going, ‘Here, other person, physical proximity is important, and I wanna fulfill one of my basic human needs with you.’ Or, other scenario, ‘I can tell you’re down, and I want to comfort you with my body, if you’re cool with that.’ Or, third scenario, ‘Hey, I’m having a tough go of it, and being close to you would really help.’ There’s nothing more bro than that.”
Nic’s fully laughing in his ear now. “Alright, I take your point. And makeouts are bro-y too, then?”
“Nah, that’s just ‘cause I like your face,” Geoff says. “Seriously. Come over around seven, I’ll make sure the pizza’s hot and the beer’s cold.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I have to go into a meeting now. See you tonight.”
As promised, the delivery pizza is still piping hot when Nic arrives, and the beer has been in the fridge for nearly five hours, but nearly as soon as Geoff shuts the door again Nic grabs him by the shirt front and kisses him hard. “This day,” Nic murmurs when Geoff pulls back to reposition himself. “This goddamn day.”
Geoff loves kissing, and he’s always liked it even better when both parties are clear from the get-go that sex is off the table for the time being. He can get sloppy and make all kinds of noises and not have to worry about when the other guy wants his shirt taken off. Not that removing Nic’s shirt would be a hardship; it’s just nice to be able to slouch down under him and focus entirely on his mouth.
(Nic has a great mouth. It more than makes up for the coldness of the pizza when they finally get to it.)
Geoff wakes the next morning to Nic’s morning breath on his shoulder. “Good morning, starshine,” he mumbles, blinking.
“Morning,” Nic says. “Morning sex?”
Geoff starts laughing at him. “And how could I refuse such an offer?”
“I’m single-handedly bringing romance back from the dead,” Nic murmurs into Geoff’s clavicle, and then bites.
--
Van Saaaaaaant.
It’s go time.
--
Geoff slams the car door and peels out of his driveway with one hand, the other pulling up Skype on his phone.
“Do you have an appointment?” MK drawls into his ear. “Because I gotta tell you, I -”
“We don’t have time for this,” Geoff snarls. “Nic drank the tea, he drank the fucking tea .”
“Shit. What do you need?” MK’s all business now. “Tell me where you’re going, I can get into the traffic system, clear your path.”
“Going to the studio, then to Cameron Ellis’ house, then into the Breach.” Geoff takes a turn sharply, slowing down where he knows there’s a traffic camera and then speeding up again. “Turn off the traffic cameras too if you can, and send me Cameron Ellis’ personal phone number.”
“On it.” He can hear her typing in the background. “Give me five minutes to make a few calls, then take the most direct route everywhere, I may not be able to siphon off the other cars but I can at least get you greens all the way. Ellis’ number coming at you now.” He hears the ting of a text arriving. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, MK.” Geoff hangs up on her, opens the text, and calls.
“How did you get this number?” Ellis says instead of a greeting. “Who are you?”
“This is Geoff van Sant. I don’t have time to explain. Nic’s in the Breach but he’s not there willingly. We’re gonna bust him out.” The PNWS studio parking lot is deserted, only Alex’s beat-up silver Volvo taking up a spot. Geoff pulls up next to the door, throws his hazards on, and gets out.
“What can I do to help?” Ellis asks as Geoff enters the building.
“We need four. You’re one of them. I’ll be at your front door in half an hour, be ready.”
Thankfully, Ellis doesn’t ask any other questions, just says, “See you soon,” and hangs up. Geoff starts running, through one hallway and then another, up a flight of stairs, and then bursts into Alex’s office.
Alex is there, bent over a sheaf of paper with another woman. “Geoff? What are you doing here? Nic isn’t here.”
“I know he isn’t,” Geoff says, grim, and plays the voicemail.
“ Geoff - Geoff, I drank the tea, I didn’t know what it was, I don’t know where they’re taking me but god, I’m scared. I’m sorry, Geoff, I’m sor- ”
The other woman in the room sinks back in her chair, looking shaken, but Alex does that thing with her face that shifts her into Journalism Mode and looks up at Geoff. “Do you have a plan?”
“A plan?” The other woman’s accent cuts through Geoff’s mind and identifies her - Amalia. Good. “We need to call the police.”
“There’s no time. We need to go.” Geoff glares at her until she stands up. “We need both of you. We need four.”
Amalia clearly doesn’t listen to Nic’s show, but Alex does, and he’s starting to understand how she got into such shit over her own show; she just stands, grabs for her jacket, and follows Geoff out of the room. After a beat, Amalia follows.
“You said we need four. Who’s the fourth?” Alex asks from the passenger seat as Geoff pulls out of the parking lot.
“Cameron Ellis. Here,” he adds, shoving his phone at her. “Call MK, tell her I need a trace on the last known location of Nic’s phone.”
Alex does so, and rattles off a location on the edge of the forest just as Geoff pulls up in front of Ellis’ house. The man slips into the backseat next to Amalia and says, “What’s the plan?”
“MK gave me the starting point,” Geoff says, eyes on the road. “I have the end point. We just gotta fill in the middle.”
“What do you mean, you have the end point? You know where Nic is?” Alex turns to stare at him.
“Sort of.”
Ellis smirks. Geoff really, really hates him. “So my suspicions were correct. There was a van Sant runner after all, but it wasn’t Carl, was it?”
“Wait, you’re a runner ? Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“What’s a runner? And will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Amalia snaps.
“Ellis, explain it to her. Alex, not fucking now .” The forest is in front of them, much sooner than it should have been but Geoff was already expecting that, he can feel the Breach scrabbling at the edge of his consciousness, practically shoving him in the right direction. “Alright,” Geoff says. “This isn’t gonna be fun for any of us, but it won’t be as bad as it could be. The Breach wants him out.”
“It wants him out ?” Ellis says, startled out of his conversation with Amalia. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I dunno, man, take it up with the spirit of the fucking forest!” Geoff snaps. “The Breach wants him out, which means we won’t have to fight as hard. This is a good thing.”
“What do you mean, fight?” Alex asks. “And shouldn’t we, I don’t know, pick aliases at this point? The whole names-don’t-work thing?”
“Not necessary.”
“What do you mean, not necessary?”
“I mean, it’s not fucking necessary. We’re not going in that way, we don’t have time.”
Somehow, Ellis must get it, because he sucks his breath in and says, “That’s too dangerous.”
“We don’t have time!” Geoff shouts again. “Do you have any idea how badly the Breach wants him out? He’s not gonna make it!”
That shuts everyone up, and then they’re passing under the first branches of the trees and a chill goes through Geoff’s spine. Alex reels back, one hand going to her throat. Geoff can’t pull his eyes from the path enough to see what Amalia and Ellis do.
The way spills out in front of Geoff, one turn pulled from Alex, the next from Ellis, foreknowledge of the dead tree he can plow straight through from Amalia. Everyone’s silent; next to him, Alex has fought her way back to semi-normality, but he can hear hiccups and dry retching from the back. There’s one horrible moment where they start to sink, Geoff’s foot easing off the gas a little too quickly, but he slams his head back against the headrest and the way opens up again.
Finally, Ellis speaks, voice steady. “Left here,” he whispers, and Geoff spins the wheel. A great expanse of gray pancake fills the windshield.
“Is this a good idea?” Alex whispers. She reaches out and grips Geoff’s arm where it’s tight on the wheel, keeping the car’s path straight over the bumpy ground.
“If we stop we sink,” Geoff answers through gritted teeth.
“Like skipping stones,” Amalia says, and then they’re punching through the weakened barrier with a horrible crunch .
Someone’s peeking out of the cabin windows, and Geoff rolls his own window down. “You have ten seconds to bring him out!” he shouts, slowing the car to a crawl. “Nine! Eight!”
Ellis takes up the count. Alex reaches back and takes Amalia’s hand. The face in the window smirks and shuts the curtain. “Two,” Ellis murmurs. “One.”
The wall of the cabin parts like wet paper when they hit it, wood splintering and glass shattering. Geoff finally brakes to a halt when they’re halfway through, front end pushing through into a shabby living room. “Out, out, find Nic,” he says.
Time gets a bit blurry again. His knuckles are covered in blood and there are four bodies at his feet when Amalia shouts from another room. He steps over them and runs. Nic is spread out on a table, blood dripping out of a tube in his arm into a bowl, skin paler than Geoff’s ever seen it.
The sight of him settles the world around Geoff, and he stumbles forward with the solidity of the ground. “We gotta get him out of here.”
Amalia slides the tube out of Nic’s arm. Ellis steps forward with one of the unconscious people’s shirts, which Amalia repurposes as a bandage. Ellis and Alex help settle Nic in Geoff’s arms, and Geoff leads them back to the car.
“Keys are in the ignition,” he says to Alex, maneuvering himself into Ellis’ vacated seat. Ellis takes the passenger seat, and Amalia slips in where she was before, pulling Nic’s legs onto her lap as Geoff cradles his head.
“I don’t know where to go,” Alex points out, starting the car.
“I’ll tell you.”
The drive back is almost anticlimactic. Alex peels out of the clearing like her ass is on fire, but no one seems to be pursuing them with any real dedication, and the turns come to Geoff easier than they had on the way up. They crash out of the forest after half an hour, and Nic gives a great heaving breath and starts to cough into Geoff’s shirt.
“Easy, easy,” Geoff hisses, holding him down, and eventually Nic settles, mashing his face into Geoff’s thigh in a way that would be adorable if Geoff’s stomach weren’t roiling. Alex barely gets the car pulled over before Geoff has to throw the door open and heave, one hand in Nic’s hair to keep him steady and the other braced against the door frame.
Alex, bless her tactful fucking soul, waits until Geoff is upright again and the door is closed, and then just says, “Where are we taking him? Hospital?”
“I don’t think he lost that much blood,” Amalia says, reaching out to put her fingers to Nic’s wrist. “His pulse is steady, and his color’s already coming back.
“Bring him to mine,” Geoff says, leaning his head back. “You can all crash tonight, I’ve got enough couch space.” The moon’s up, and the road is empty enough that it must be the early hours of the morning.
“How do we get there?” Ellis asks.
Geoff really doesn’t like him. “Use the fucking GPS, I’m done with navigating.”
Geoff lets Amalia redo Nic’s bandage with proper supplies from the army-grade first-aid kit Geoff still keeps under his sink, and then he puts Nic to bed, glass of juice on the nightstand and Geoff’s softest hoodie tugged on instead of his ratty, bloodied shirt. Alex, who Geoff is going to have to kiss on the mouth when this is over, has already set herself up in the guest room, and Amalia joins her. Geoff tosses a spare pillow and blanket onto the couch for Ellis, and then throws himself into the shower.
The water’s hot, hot enough that Geoff really should turn it down, but instead he turns his face into it and lets himself cry for thirty seconds before reaching for the shampoo. There’s dried sweat and dirt all over him, and a bit of Nic’s blood on his elbow that he hadn’t noticed before.
Geoff’s asleep ten seconds after settling himself into the armchair by his bed, Nic’s soft breathing filling his ears.
Nic’s gone when he wakes up, as is the glass of juice. Geoff levers himself out of the chair, winces when his neck cracks, and goes out into the living room. Nic’s leaning against the counter of the kitchen, eyes closed, and Geoff looks at Alex before Nic opens them.
She crosses over to him and kisses him on the cheek. “You gonna be okay?” she whispers.
“I’m fine.” Geoff manages a grin long enough for her to leave, and then he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. Nic’s eyes have opened, and they’re staring at him. “How are you?”
“Much better,” Nic says. “Alex fed me. Normally that would be terrifying, but someone’s taught her how to make a decent omelette. You’re out of eggs, though.”
“That’s fair.” Geoff thinks about going into the kitchen and grabbing a smoothie, or maybe some toast. In the end he decides to just keep awkwardly hovering. “So.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a runner?”
Geoff grins sheepishly. “Would you believe it never came up?” Nic raises an eyebrow. “No, okay, seriously, I didn’t know for sure.”
“You didn’t know for sure.”
“It’s not like it comes with an owner’s manual or anything!” Geoff stops, takes a breath, and starts over. “Look, I had the weird dreams, alright? But I thought they were weird dreams! PTSD shit, you know? It happens.”
Nic’s face softens. Normally Geoff hates pity but right now he’ll take what he can get. “What about Carl?”
“Carl was crazy.”
“Even though he was right about runners existing?” Nic steps around the counter, out into the living room.
Geoff frowns. “Look. All I know is, I got your voicemail and I knew where to go and how to get there. I’ve got no more information than that, it’s not like I was holding out something that you could have used for the story.”
Nic looks at him, and nods. “Fair enough.” Then, “Thanks. For coming to get me.” He takes another step forward.
“Don’t mention it.” Geoff reaches out to clasp him on the shoulder, at which point Nic literally jumps on him, sending them both toppling to the floor in a way that should kill the mood but really, really does not.
--
Thank you, van Sant.
It wasn’t time yet.
Soon, but not yet.
Thank you.
--
Geoff tells Dr. Carloff that, as it turns out, his dreams were actually psychic connections with a spiritual entity living in the Pacific Northwest treeline. Oddly enough, he thinks she actually believes him.
Geoff tells his insurance company that he was forced to crash his car into a cabin to rescue his boyfriend from an insane cult. The insurance company, unfortunately, isn’t buying it.
“I’m billing Pacific Northwest for my car repairs,” he tells Nic the next time they talk.
“Fair enough,” Nic says. “I’ll have Stacey fax you the paperwork.”
“Nic.”
“I’ll have Stacey scan and email you the paperwork.”
“That’s more like it.”
--
In the end, it’s Alex who approaches him. Geoff’s at the vet bar, shooting pool and shit with some of the guys when his phone rings. Geoff throws his cue to Sammy and ducks outside. “What’s up?”
“Hey Geoff,” she says, fully in Journalism Mode. “Do you have some time to talk?”
“Is this about the thing?”
“The thing?”
“Yeah, Reagan, the thing.”
She laughs. “Yes, van Sant, this is about the thing. Do you have some time to talk about it this week?”
“No time like the present. Are you free now?”
Alex laughs again. “I was hoping you’d say that. I can be at your house in half an hour, if that works?”
“See you there.”
Geoff goes back inside, grabs his jacket, stays long enough to watch Sammy beat the game on his behalf, and goes home. He still manages to beat Alex, with enough time left to put the coffeepot on before she knocks on his door.
“First off,” she says, once they’re settled at Geoff’s kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand, “Are you comfortable with me recording this conversation for the show?”
“I would expect nothing less from you, Reagan.”
“Great.” She pulls her voice recorder out of her pocket and turns it on, placing it in the center of the table. “Now I take it you already have some idea of what I’m here to talk about.”
Geoff takes a pull of coffee and says, “Yeah, for sure. You’re here to ask about my killer spagbol recipe.” She laughs, and he grins. “Nah, you’re here about me being a runner, right?”
“That’s right.” She takes a drink of her own, and leans forward, elbows on the table. “A few weeks ago, you led a small group consisting of yourself, myself, Cameron Ellis, and my friend Amalia into the Breach, as you called it, to rescue Nic Silver. Does that match with what you remember?”
Geoff drains his coffee and clears his throat. “‘S about right, yeah.”
“Would you mind explaining what you did, exactly? It didn’t seem to match up with Nic’s last experience traveling into the Breach with a runner.”
“Different method.” Geoff leans forward onto the table too. “What Nic’s runner did last time was safer, but it was slower. We didn’t have time for that, so I took a shortcut.”
Alex nods. “Would you mind elaborating on the differences? If you can; I understand that it’s all sort of... cerebral sometimes.”
He laughs. “Yeah, alright. So, think of it like a lake. There’s a big old lake between you and where you want to go, yeah? And imagine you’re a wizard. So, option one: You can turn yourself into a fish, and swim across. Takes a while, but you can rest, sleep, eat, and then keep going. That’s what happened with Nic’s last runner.”
“Nic’s last runner turned them all into fish and they swam across?” Her tone isn’t disbelieving, which is awesome; more like she’s just trying to clarify.
“More or less. But like I said, that way takes time, which we did not have. So instead, I turned us into a stone.”
He sees Alex’s eyes light up with recognition. “Like skipping stones. That’s what Amalia said, while we were in your car.”
Geoff nods; he remembers her saying that, and being surprised that she’d cottoned on so quickly. “That way’s a lot faster - a stone can haul ass over the water when it’s skipped properly. But it’s risky, because if you stop -”
“You sink,” Alex finishes. “And if a skipped stone sinks, it can’t pick itself up and keep going.”
He points at her. “You got it.”
“What would have happened if we’d sunk?”
Geoff shrugs, expansive. “Who the fuck knows? Not me. We’d’ve been lost, most likely, just old detritus on the lake bottom.” Alex gives a little shudder, clearly involuntary. “Best not to think about it. We made it, after all. No harm, no foul.”
“No fish,” she adds, and he laughs. The mood breaks up, and she sits back. “Thank you so much for this, Geoff. Any final words for the show’s listeners?”
Geoff leans in to the recorder still on the table. “Whenever possible, be a fish.”
--
“Alex played your interview for me,” Nic says a week later, over Geoff’s Famous Spagbol and beer. “Sounded like you knew what you were talking about.”
“I did,” Geoff confirms, taking a bite. “But don’t ask me what the source of that knowledge is, because I do not know.”
“Fair enough.”
Later, after the dishes have been washed, Nic goes over to the couch and faceplants into it. Geoff slides in next to him, and after a moment Nic shuffles so his nose is pressed into Geoff’s shoulder instead of the worn leather. “I keep having nightmares,” he says.
“Seems like a theme over there at Pacific Northwest Stories,” Geoff remarks, earning him a huff. “Wanna talk about them?”
“Do you get nightmares?” Nic asks instead, shifting to look up at him.
“Sure.” Geoff shrugs. “PTSD shit. And some other shit.”
“What do you do about the PTSD shit?”
“I apply therapy, dude. Once every other week.”
“And the other shit?”
“The other shit, I’m pretty sure, is sent by a chaotic neutral god-thing, so I’m not tempted to get rid of them in case I need to save your ass again.”
Nic snorts. “I appreciate that.”
“Seriously, man, get a therapist, I cannot overstate how much you need a therapist.” Geoff considers for a moment. “You may have to talk in metaphors, since I dunno how much any reputable therapist would buy all the shit that’s happened to you, but it’s worth a shot.”
“I’ll look into it.” Nic’s quiet for a minute, head still on Geoff’s shoulder, hand toying with Geoff’s fingers. “I love you, you know.”
Geoff grins. “For my sage advice and my life-saving abilities?”
“Nah. For your spagbol.”
Geoff laughs. “I’ll take it, dude.” Nic keeps playing with his fingers, and Geoff presses a kiss into his hair. “Love you too.” He waits a moment. “And you can’t even make spagbol, so that’s saying something.” Nic elbows him in the side.
--
Thank you, van Sant.
Stay ready, van Sant.
It wasn’t time yet but it will be soon.
Stay ready.