Busted (28 page)

Snatching the hand away would make it feel like he was doing something wrong, and he didn't really want to stop. Instead he put the other on Chris' back, then slid them up to his shoulders and started to knead. They felt familiar under his hands, strong shoulders, so like Alex's. Unlike Alex's, though, these were tense and knotted, even after all the dancing.

Chris turned his head to look back at Joe and put his hand on one of Joe's, stopping him. "You don't have to," he said.

"You need it," Joe said. He started digging in with thumbs and fingertips, working the muscles. Whenever he did this to Alex, the man nearly purred, leaning into them and asking for more. He was like that, soaking up any attention Joe could give him. Alex was always appreciative, but he always asked for more, too. He would never have tried to stop Joe from doing something he enjoyed. The difference made Joe want to do it all that much more, knowing he didn't have to.

"God, you're tense," Joe said. There was a knot high up on Chris' left shoulder. Alex had one in the exact same spot. Joe had worked it over more than once, and knew what made Alex melt. The same things worked on Chris, who groaned and went limp under his hands.

"That feels good," Chris mumbled.

Joe could feel something strange under Chris' shirt, a line running nearly horizontally across the muscle. It wasn't easy to tell what it was through the shirt and undershirt Chris was wearing.

"You okay here?" Joe asked. His finger traced the line he felt.

"Yeah," Chris said. "Took a knife a few years back. It's fine, but it aches sometimes."

"Well," Joe said, giving Chris a light slap on the shoulder. "It's past ten thirty. Early for this place, but you've gotta get to work in the morning, right?"

Chris gave a reluctant nod. What he really wanted was to stay right there, under Joe's hands, but that really wasn't an option.

"C'mon," Joe said. He didn't want to go either. It felt good, being able to touch Chris like this. "I'll drive you home. We'll get your car in the morning."

The drive back to his house was long enough that the good feelings Chris gotten from the club had time to drain away. He was back to brooding again, and staring out the window without actually looking at anything.

Joe could tell he'd faded. Something was seriously bothering Chris, and it worried him. He'd hoped that time in the club would help, and while it did it wasn't enough. He could feel the pain Chris was in.

He pulled into Chris' driveway and set the parking brake. The cranking noise roused Chris. He started, and it took a moment for it to register that they'd gotten to his house. He started to fumble with his seatbelt.

Joe had been debating what to do the entire drive. He was sure that Chris wasn't going to volunteer anything, and equally sure that he'd do his best to get by. He needed to talk, though, or something. Rant maybe, or cry. Joe didn't know what had gone on, but it was eating Chris up.

He put his hand on Chris', stopping him from undoing the seatbelt.

"Tell me what happened today," Joe said. He was putting on his best HR guy voice. People who were quietly upset tended to do what you told them, especially if you told them to do something they really needed to.

Chris looked over at Joe. Part of him just wanted to dump it all out, let it go. Part wanted to go out and hurt something. Part of him wanted to curl up and cry.

He looked away from Joe, staring out the windshield. "You don't…"

"Tell me," Joe pressed. He squeezed Chris' hand a little.

Chris looked back.

"We caught a guy today. On the west side of town. We were over there following up a lead someone from the high school had given us, some drug thing. That turned out to be nothing, jealous ex-girlfriend and a little bit of pot.

"While we were looking around outside we heard something. Just a noise, y'know? Nothing big, some kid crying. You check because you've got kids and you just have to, because that's what you'd want someone to do if it were your kid and you weren't around."

Chris' voice was getting shaky. He took a breath, but it didn't help.

"We caught him with her, in his living room, pants down... He was raping her, Joe. His own daughter. She was…" He closed his eyes. Joe could feel him shaking. He squeezed Chris' hand a little tighter, and put his other hand on Chris' shoulder.

"She was only two, Joe. She was just a baby and he was raping her and he'd been doing it for a
year
. The mother… the mother knew. She knew and she didn't try to stop it." Chris' voice had dropped to a whisper.

Joe was at a loss. He'd had to deal with all sorts of unpleasant things at work. He was the last one in line, the guy that got the stuff nobody else could or wanted to handle – vicious stupidity, sociopaths, drugs, spousal abuse, once even blackmail. But it was all with adults.

The only thing he could think to do was pull Chris into a hug, to try and give him some reassurance, some contact. Anything to try and help.

It was what Chris needed. At Joe's first touch Chris pulled him in and nearly crushed him, holding on as tight as he could. He let Joe's warmth flow into him. It didn't make things good, but it made them better, the feel of another body next to his, just knowing someone cared enough to show it.

Joe reached up and stroked the back of Chris' head while he held on. He was fighting for breath a little, but he didn't say anything. Chris desperately needed this, and it was easy enough to give.

When Joe felt Chris' grip slack a little he let go, letting Chris free. He sat back, then reached up to stroke Chris' face.

"You go in. I'll go get Toby, okay?"

Chris just nodded. He was very tired, and feeling numb. That wasn't good, but it was better than he had been. He unbuckled himself and got out of the car. He watched Joe as he strode over Steve's front lawn and knocked on the door. There were still lights on, so someone was up.

He made his way slowly to the back door. He managed to fish his keys out and unlock it, but that was as far as he got by the time Joe came back. Toby was asleep, nearly grafted on to him.

"C'mon, Chris," Joe said softly. "Let's head inside, okay?"

Chris' lethargy worried Joe. He was used to the man being cranky, argumentative, angry, and upset. He knew how to deal with that. This emptiness, though, was beyond him.

Joe put his free hand on the small of Chris' back and gently pushed, guiding him into the house. He let himself be led. Right then it was easier than thinking, and he was so very tired.

"Up the stairs," Joe said. He wanted to go first. Negotiating the narrow staircase was tough enough with a child in his arms. Having to walk behind a zombie didn't make it easier. Especially when the zombie had a really nice ass. Joe shook his head and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. It was a good thing it was only one flight up.

"You get ready for bed, Chris," Joe said. He'd decided that anything resembling a question was probably the wrong way to deal with Chris right now. "I'll get Toby settled in."

Chris turned and gave him a tired little smile. "Thanks, Joe."

"No problem," he said. "That's what I'm here for."

Joe turned into Toby's room. The boy had a death grip around his neck, so he had to bend at the waist to lay him onto the bed. It was a good thing, Joe thought, that Toby wasn't any bigger. His back wouldn't survive. He made a mental note to add more ab workouts to his schedule.

"You're in bed, Toby," he said. Joe knelt to try and get more comfortable. "You can let go now, sport."

Toby just mumbled and grabbed hold a little tighter.

Joe rolled his eyes and scooted the boy over a little, far enough to let him pull back the covers on the bed and arrange Toby under them. Figuring Toby wasn't going to let go on his own, Joe reached around and gently loosened the boy's arms. When Toby moved to take hold again Joe grabbed the stuffed rabbit that was on the pillow and substituted it instead. It apparently met with Toby's approval, and Joe slipped out of the room. He saw a nightlight in a plug next to the bedroom door and made sure to turn it on.

Chris had managed to get himself undressed when Joe went to check on him. He was standing by his dresser in an undershirt and boxer shorts, emptying out the pockets of his pants. The shirt was sitting on top of a pile of dirty clothes in a hamper next to the closet.

"Just checking to see how you're doing," Joe said as he stood in the doorway. It was, he thought, a good thing he found boxers and white t-shirts desperately unsexy.

Chris' small smile gave him a warm feeling. No matter how bad things were, Chris didn't truly
need
Joe's help. He would've gotten by without it in one way or another. Neither did he ask or expect Joe's help. He'd accepted it in the spirit it was given, as a gift of sorts, something unexpected to be appreciated. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Better, thanks," Chris said.

"Good," Joe said. "When do you have to be up in the morning?"

"Up at seven, Toby gets dropped off next door at about twenty 'til, then work at eight." Chris looked at Joe questioningly. "Why?"

Joe had untucked his shirt and was undoing his belt.

"I've got to shower and change in the morning, and wanted to make sure I had time. Do you have a spare t-shirt I could borrow?"