Piece by Piece

63. The Truth

Chicago looked alien after so much time away from it. Glancing out the window of the bus, Davyn expected sand to fall out of the skies. All he had was rain. Spring wasn't in a hurry that year.

In true military fashion, the Counters had given everyone on his team a five-day leave. They were all expected to return in due time for more instructions and picking up their duties. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Davyn knew he had things to do at home, the most important being to talk to Millie, but being away from the mayhem, from this new and exciting life gave him too much time to think. The twenty-hour bus ride was torture.

He'd dozed off for most of it, but his sleep was plagued with blood, sand and the stench of death. By the time he reached Chicago, he felt as if the bus had run him over repeatedly. He was rumpled and dirty, his entire body stinging with the leftover pain from his wounds. As the wind blew in his face, he decided that he couldn't face Millie like this. He needed a shower and clean clothes and maybe a clearer head. It was bad enough that he'd disappeared for four months, he didn't want to show up looking like a train wreck and have to explain that on top of everything else.

So instead of heading for his apartment, he picked up his pathetic luggage and took a cab to his family's house. It looked empty and dreary in the rain, much like he felt at the moment. Once inside, he couldn't even be bothered to search for Freider or Ron to let them know that he was there. If he was lucky, he'd get to take his shower, change his clothes and walk out before anyone could tell he was there. Sure, he wanted to see Ron, but not right then. First Millie, and after that was sorted out, he would see what he could do for his little brother.

He entered his room and dropped his backpack on the floor, only focusing enough to notice that someone had cleaned up his books. Maybe Freider had finally caved and hired a housekeeper again. Not that he cared. Freider could do whatever he wanted with that house, but before that, Davyn wanted to move all his stuff and not have to set foot in there again.

Pondering on the uselessness of his thoughts, he pulled his hoodie off, and then his t-shirt, already heading for the bathroom door. He froze when it opened and someone stepped out and right into him.

He jumped back and stared, unable to believe his eyes. He was surely imagining it because there was no way Millie was staring back at him with terrified eyes. Then, her hands moved quickly to pull down her shirt, but it was too late. He'd caught a glimpse of her bloated belly. It didn't compute. She'd always been slim and flat. How did she get like that? Unless... But his mind refused to go down that road, to accept the obvious because he wasn't an idiot and knew exactly what that was, what it meant.

"I was thinking, maybe we should go out for diner tonight--"

Davyn whipped around to face Freider who'd stopped in the doorway, glancing from him to Millie. The shock on his face took only seconds to morph into pure glee.

"Oh, you're back." His voice didn't reflect the savage pleasure in his eyes. "I see you've met my wife."

Time seemed to stop as Davyn stared at the victory written all over his brother's face. He'd fallen asleep on the bus and was having the trippiest nightmare. There was no other explanation for it.

The silence was deafening and it was obvious that Freider expected an answer to his statement. Davyn had nothing more intelligent than, "Your what?"

Freider walked over to Millie, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My wife. Did you get hit in the head?" He tilted his head, an expression of fake worry on his face. "Comte to think of it, you don't look so well. Did you get hurt?"

Davyn couldn't find the words to describe how utterly senseless this entire situation was. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way that Millie would be in his house, married to Freider out of all people.