Foreign Territory (Active Duty #2)

Take Shelter

Six months later...
Guildford, Surrey, England

"You okay?"

"Stop fucking asking me that."

"I've only asked the once."

"Maybe this bus ride." Jason rung his hands together, the dry and callous skin rough against his fingertips.

The bus shunted forward from its stop, causing Robin to bash into him from the side. Jason tried not to react, darting his gaze to the other passengers on the busy Routemaster. It wasn't that he minded the close contact, it had been a fucking long time since he'd had any, but it sent him reeling through a dozen emotions he couldn't control.

He only had room in his small brain for one.

Robin straightened out, shifted in the dual seat and gazed out of the window. Jason immediately felt like shit.

"Sorry," he mumbled to his boots. They could do with a polish, caked in mud and God knew what else from the trek across country.

Robin didn't remove his stare from the passing leafy surroundings of England's Surrey county. Nothing had changed much in the year or so since Jason had last visited. Probably a new Aldi here and there, pubs turned into convenience stores and the odd new roundabout. Not that Jason had paid much attention to Robin's home town back then either. But it gave him a welcome relief from dealing with the shit in his head as they travelled through the suburbs. He wished he'd bought that car against Robin's judgement that he couldn't drive.

"I won't ask again." Robin's breath left a mist of condensation on the glass. He wiped it off with his sleeve, obviously not wanting it to distort the view. Jason could hardly blame the fella, Surrey was way more picturesque than the concrete paradise he was brought up in, or where they'd both been staying the past six months.

Nodding in response, regardless of the lack of any eye contact his way, Jason squeezed down the unaccustomed feelings of regret. Robin was the only one who would ask. But that soon evaporated when a scream launched out of nowhere from the back of the bus. Jason immediately reached for his rifle. Of course, it wasn't there. Although in camouflage, he was in civilian wear, on a civilian mode of transport, heading to civilian territory. It didn't prevent his heart elevating, breathing laboring and fingers trembling at his hip that had involuntarily lifted from the cushioned seat.

"Stop that! No!" A young mother yelled at her squawking sprog, barking an order that Jason was hard pressed not to follow. The kid, however, didn't and screamed louder. She wouldn't be making it as an army recruit in two decade's time, that was for sure. Still, Jason wasn't exactly known for following parental orders in his youth either, so there was still hope for the little thing, especially with her elevated temper.

Jason hadn't noticed his hand still hovering by his hip, patting around for his PLCE belt, until Robin curled his fingers around his wrist and flattened Jason's shaking hand down on his thigh. Removing his hand just as quick, Robin returned to the view outside the window. He didn't even utter the aforementioned two words that had driven Jason in-fucking-sane over the hundreds of miles already travelled. True to his word, the bastard.

"I'm okay." Jason traced the lines of his trouser camouflage. "I am."

"I didn't ask."

"Oh, don't go all fucking psycho snooty on me, you piece of fucking shit. I'm all right. I'm golden. I'm floating on a high fucking breezy."

Robin dragged his gaze from the window and landed it on Jason. It looked like he was going to say something. Protest, maybe?  That'd give Jason a reason to bark louder. But he didn't. Instead, a manicured nail prodded Jason's shoulder from behind and Jason twisted in the bus seat, coming face to face with the mother of the year.