Gun Shy
by Angela
It was too early to be up. Ash stared at himself in the dull mirror,
running a hand through his hair in the hope that it would dry faster. Pale sunlight forced its way through the
dirty window, and the light that bounced off the avocado tiles that lined the
tiny bathroom made his face look sickly green.
He leaned down to the faucet and drank deeply. The water was cold and metallic, smelling of rust.
He pulled his t-shirt over his head. It was yesterday’s shirt, which pretty much
cancelled out the cold-water bath he’d taken in the chipped tub, but they’d
been hiding out for the past twelve hours--there hadn’t been time to round up a
change of clothes. Shorter had managed
to locate some threadbare towels, but he hadn’t found too many extras in the
apartment. He said he hadn’t used it in
months. Ash could see why. The place was a dump.
Eiji was still asleep. Ash had been tempted to wake him, but decided against it. The kid wasn’t used to this kind of
lifestyle. Hell, he probably wasn’t
used to this kind of living arrangement.
Ash imagined that it’d been nothing but soft hotel mattresses and room
service for him so far. He wondered why
Eiji had given that up to hide out with him.
No matter the reason, it made Ash feel good.
He went out into the hall, trying to muffle his
steps on the creaky floor. His stomach
growled. Maybe Shorter had been able to
slip out for provisions--none of them had eaten since lunch the day
before. If anyone knew how to get
around
The main room was empty, and so was the tiny
kitchen. Ash flopped onto the
couch. After those weeks in prison, it
was almost unnerving to be alone.
Almost, but not quite. He smiled
to himself as he gazed a nearby window.
The city was huge; he felt anonymous and free. The smells of
He was happy.
Sure, there was a lot of work to do--meeting Max Lobo only added fuel to
his drive to discover the truth about banana fish--but somehow sharing this
crappy apartment with Shorter and Eiji satisfied him. He’d had a sense of suspended tranquility since waking that
morning. Eiji had been sleeping
peacefully in the bed next to his and Shorter’s impatient snore could be heard
from the living room. Waking up like
that made Ash feel safe, safe like he hadn’t felt since before
A scraping sound at the door yanked him from his
thoughts. He jerked up from the couch,
his hand automatically reaching to the gun that wasn’t tucked in the waistband
of his jeans. As his hands gripped air,
Ash’s eyes darted frantically around the room for some kind of weapon.
The deadbolt turned. The lock clicked.
“Luuucy!
I’m home from de club!”
Shorter’s voice.
Ash let out his breath, falling back and dropping his head on the flat
pillows.
A moment later his friend was walking past, pulling
a bandana from his shaved head. “I
picked up some groceries.” The paper
bags thunked heavily on the counter.
Ash opened his eyes.
“Sounds like some heavy food,” he commented
dryly. “Trying to give us indigestion?”
Shorter bustled around the kitchen, not answering
as he banged a wok onto the stove. Ash
listened as the wooden clunk of the cutting board followed, then the rhythmic
chop and swish of vegetables being sliced.
“You gonna talk to me?” he asked mildly, finally sitting up to look at
his friend over the back of the couch.
Peering at him from over the rim of his sunglasses,
Shorter frowned. “Only if you get your
ass off the couch and help me out,” he complained. “You can put the groceries away while I make breakfast.”
Getting off the sofa took a bit more effort than
Ash had expected--his limbs were heavy and lazy with this new relaxation. He trudged into the kitchen and peered into
one of the bags. He blinked. “What the hell’s all this?” he asked,
looking closely at a plastic bottle full of some kind of thick black
sauce. Another bottle held a blood-red
liquid that looked like it had tiny hands floating in it, and Ash wasn’t able
to identify as single vegetable from the bundle of produce. “I thought you said you got food.”
Shorter laughed.
“Come on, Ash! You’ve eaten
enough Chinese food to have had these things a hundred times over! Stop complaining and put them in the
fridge!”
Supposing that Shorter was right, that he just
wasn’t familiar with the ingredients in their uncooked forms, Ash did as he was
told. The second bag had
toiletries--toothpaste! shampoo!--and something heavier, wrapped in
newspaper. “What’s this?” he asked,
knowing as soon as his fingers touched it what the answer would be.
“The police still have your piece, right?” Shorter dumped some rice from cardboard
takeout boxes into the wok. “I figured
you’d need another one fast, so I scared one up for you.”
Ash stared at the pistol. It was an automatic weapon--easy to use and easy to carry. The serial numbers had been carefully filed
off. He palmed it, testing its weight
and feel. He aimed at a distant spot on
the wall, then shook his head. “This
won’t work for me,” he said softly. He
was grateful for the gesture--Shorter was hiding out, too, and knew to avoid
his old haunts and contacts. He’d gone
out on a limb to get this for Ash, but it didn’t feel right. “I can get one of my old guns from Alex,
once I get a hold of him. We can give
this one to Eiji.”
His friend looked up from his cooking, concern
blatant on his face. “D’ya think he
needs one?” Shorter asked carefully. “The
kid’s never held a gun in his life. It
might not be a good idea to--“
“He’s got to be able to keep himself alive. Eiji will slow us down if we have to cover
him all the time.” It still ached
inside when Ash thought about Skip--he didn’t want to feel the same kind of
heaviness again just because Eiji needed to prove himself. In a way, Shorter was right--it’d be better
to keep Eiji out of everything, to send him back to Ibe and back to
Shorter didn’t answer for a long time. He went back to his fried rice, expertly
flipping it around faster than Ash’s eyes could keep up.
Ash looked away, tucking the pistol into the
waistband of his jeans. Shorter would
understand; he knew a liability when he saw one. He found a clean-looking glass in the cupboard and turned on the
faucet. The pipes thumped and groaned,
and eventually a trickle of water emerged.
Ash filled his glass and took a swig.
Rust again, but better than some of the water he’d drank in the past.
“You really like him, don’t you?” Shorter was staring with an inscrutable
look.
“Eiji?”
He scowled, turning quickly to tend to
breakfast. “Who the hell else would I
mean?”
Heat flooded Ash’s face. “But . . . you know I
like girls,” he protested.
“I wouldn’t think the two are necessarily mutually
exclusive,” Shorter responded dryly, cracking an egg into the sizzling
wok. “I’ve seen the way you look at
him, the way you let your guard down when he’s around.”
Ash didn’t answer.
He couldn’t. He wanted to protest,
but knew he’d never beat Shorter in an argument about emotions. The guy was like a shrink with all of his
observations and advice. Ash didn’t
like that his friend had taken his sense of responsibility for the kid, his
sense of gratitude for what he’d done, and twisted it into something like that.
Shorter continued cooking, all the while watching
Ash closely. “Besides,” he said,
smirking, “if you don’t like him the way I meant, then why did you right away
assume that’s how I meant it?”
“Think what you like,” Ash told his friend tightly,
setting his glass on the counter with a loud clunk. “I’m still gonna give him the gun.”
“Breakfast in twenty,” the bald teenager called
merrily over his shoulder. He knew he’d
won the argument; Ash could hear it in his voice.
When he slipped back into the bedroom, he was still
trying to shake the uneasy feeling the conversation had brought on. So much for relaxation and that lingering
sense of tranquility. Now his stomach
was tied in knots and his head was starting to hurt. The worst part was that he knew better than to let Shorter get to
him like that.
Eiji was still sleeping. His hair was a riot of dark strands on the pillow, and he had
somehow tangled himself in the sheets.
Ash smiled. He couldn’t remember
the last time he’d slept so soundly, so secure in his own safety. He sat on the opposite bed, leaning against
the wall as he watched Eiji sleep. The
kid was good looking--probably pretty popular with the girls back in
He remembered that jump in the alley--the way he’d
planted that pipe and the graceful arch of his back as he sailed over the
wall. Ash had felt a sense of awe that
still lingered. He hadn’t felt that
kind of respect for anyone except
The boy mumbled something in Japanese, rolling over
in his sleep to grasp at the pillow like it was a teddy bear. Or a lover.
Ash ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with
the fact that the idea even spilled into his thoughts--Shorter had messed with
his mind a bit more than he thought. A
kid like that was too young for a lover--not in years, but in experience. Even Ash had never had a lover, not in any
mutual sense. That kind of bond was
dangerous in Ash’s world--he could barely fathom being able to trust someone enough
to willingly get that close.
Unbidden, the memory of the kiss infused his
mind.
Eiji had responded willingly; Ash had barely had to
coax the boy’s mouth open to give him the capsule. Ash flushed hotly at the recollection, despite being practically
alone in the room. Of course, Ash was
skilled--maybe Eiji had been responding to his professional mastery of kissing,
rather than to him. The idea made him
feel a bit . . . angry.
Ash shook his head; this was stupid. What did it matter why Eiji let him kiss
him? He forced his mind away from the
subject, wishing he could similarly banish the lingering sense of disquiet that
came along with it.
“Hey,” Ash said softly, deciding it was time to
wake the boy. He didn’t move. He touched his friend’s arm, careful not to
startle him too much. “Eiji.”
Nothing.
Ash scowled, pushing harder.
“Eiji, wake up!”
He shifted in his sleep, one had coming up to rub
his eyes. “Jus’ a li’l bit longer . .
.”
This kid was unbelievable! Deciding to have a bit of fun at Eiji’s
expense, he pulled the pistol from his waistband. He checked the safety and aimed.
The barrel was inches from his friend’s closed eyes. Ash cleared his throat.
Even before his eyes opened completely, Ash saw
Eiji’s whole body stiffen--every muscle seeming to flex beneath the thin
sheet. His eyes flew open, at once
guarded and angry, and Ash realized he’s never seen that kind of expression on
him before. For a second he looked
tough.
“You awake now?”
Those dark brown eyes flicked up in surprise to
Ash’s face and suddenly his whole demeanor changed. The anger and fear in his face faded and his eyes became trusting
and amused. His mouth pulled up into a
grin.
Ash’s heart skipped a beat.
Eiji laughed.
“You really scared me!” he protested good-naturedly, his face
flushing. “That’s a bad joke!”
Ash could barely focus. His mind was skittering all over the place, lingering over the
contours of Eiji’s face, the messy spikes of his hair. The familiar surge of protective emotions swirled
with something new, something frightening and comforting at the same time.
This was not the time to analyze it.
“This is for you,” Ash answered, flipping the gun
in his hand and handing it to Eiji.
Eiji didn’t take it, just looked at him with wide eyes. “Use it to defend yourself,” he said
brusquely, pushing the pistol into his friend’s hand.
Eiji didn’t say anything, but his expression--half
surprised and half lost--made Ash soften.
He couldn’t remember how he felt the first time he held a gun, but it
couldn’t have been easy. He carefully
taught Eiji how to use it--how to load and how to shoot. Target practice would have to come
later--assuming they had time for it.
“When the shooting starts, I won’t be able to
protect you.” Emotion made Ash’s voice
unusually harsh. He looked into Eiji’s
eyes, nervous of what he thought he saw there.
“You’ve got to protect yourself,” he said in a more even tone.
Eiji stared straight into his face, his eyes
doubtful but unwavering. He licked his
lips. “Okay,” he said nervously.
Ash smirked.
“Don’t look so glum. In five
minutes, breakfast will be ready.
Shorter’s making it--Chinese style.”
He reached for the doorknob and took one last look at his friend, warily
holding a gun amidst rumpled bed sheets.
“Get dressed,” he advised.
He leaned on the door as soon as he closed it,
taking a deep breath and looking at the cracked ceiling as he listened to
Eiji’s muffled movements inside. His
breath came out in a ragged sigh, and he realized that he’d been holding it. What the hell was going on? His hands started to shake.
You
really like him, don’t you?
When Shorter posed the question, Ash’s mind had
immediately jumped to the complicated, romantic, sexual form of liking that
he’d worked hard to avoid for most of his life. Of course he’d denied it.
His stomach lurched uncomfortably.
There was no real reason for Shorter to suspect he’d be interested in
another guy--it wasn’t the sort of conclusion he’d jump to easily. Ash had spent a lot of time with a lot of
guys in his life, and not once did Shorter accuse him of being in love.
Until Eiji.
And then there was the way Eiji looked at him--the
way his fearful look melted into absolute trust. Eiji believed in him completely, and he was at a loss to
understand why.
It was almost too much to deal with. He shook his head, deciding that too much
was at stake for him to be distracted now.
He’d just have to work that much harder to keep Eiji safe so they could
figure it out when everything was done.
Back in the kitchen, Ash dropped unceremoniously
into a chair at the table. The chipped
Formica was grey and flecked with shiny bits of teal--it looked like a Leave it to Beaver cast-off and was
probably as old. Shorter was tossing
something in the dented wok and a bamboo steamer rested on a pot of water on
the back burner. The whole place
smelled like a Chinese restaurant and Ash’s stomach growled. Prison food had been adequate, but
bland. It would be a nice change to
start the day with a real meal.
Shorter smiled over his shoulder when he heard his
friend come in. “Did you wake our
little prince?” he asked good-naturedly, seeming to forget their earlier
conversation.
Ash couldn’t resist a smile. Shorter was soft with Eiji--it was almost
endearing. “Yeah,” he answered easily,
eyeing the dishes Shorter pulled out of the cabinet. They were chipped and dingy and they made him wonder how Shorter
ended up with this crummy old apartment in the first place. “He was hard to get up, though. Kid sleeps like the dead.”
Shorter laughed.
“You don’t get that much out here, huh?” he asked. Both he and Ash had learned at a very early
age that waking up alert and ready to go could mean the difference between life
and death. He rubbed and hand over his
head, his mouth twitching playfully.
“Is that why you were in there so long?
The kid took a little coaxing?”
His insinuation was obvious. Ash ignored it.
“We have a lot to do today, and I still have to
find a gun. Any chance we’ll get to eat
before sunset?” He knew he sounded
surly and defensive, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He didn’t want to talk about Eiji,
particularly in the way that Shorter wanted to.
“Good morning, Ash. Good morning, Shorter.”
For an instant, Ash’s breath caught. He wasn’t used to being startled, but Eiji’s
voice had somehow managed it. He
twisted in his seat. Eiji stood in the
doorway, his hair damp and his shirt open.
It was strange how, with his clothes on, he looked so small and
harmless, but as soon as you got a glimpse of his tightly muscled chest and
arms, it was clear the boy was an athlete.
He stood awkwardly, combing his hair with his fingers. “I am not too late for breakfast?” he asked
hopefully. “Too much activity has made
me starving.”
“I was just about to serve,” Shorter said jovially,
his face alight in a private joke. He
winked at Ash over his sunglasses, leaving Eiji politely bewildered, but
smiling.
Shorter had made fried rice and a delicious-looking
meat dish in a dark sauce. Steamed buns
complimented the meal, and Ash couldn’t wait to eat. He filled his glass with water as the others poured tea. “Dig in,” the cook encouraged, filling their
plates.
It burned.
Ash’s eyes watered with the heat of it.
He choked down the first bite and grimaced. “You didn’t say it’d be so spicy,” he protested, gulping his
water.
Shorter looked nervous. “Spicy, huh?” he asked cautiously, looking warily at his dish.
Eiji coughed.
“Chinese food in
Eager to try a safer route, Shorter reached for a
bun. “Ahh, but dim sum is hard to screw up, right?” he asked, grinning. He took a huge bite, but ran to the trash to
spit it out as soon as he’d tasted it.
“How the hell did it get so sweet?” he asked, outraged.
Eiji laughed first. He tried to hide it; Ash saw him cover his mouth and choke back
the first giggle. Shorter was making
gagging sounds into the sink, his sunglasses forgotten on the counter. The Japanese boy made a quick face at Ash
behind their friend’s back and suddenly Ash felt laughter welling up inside
him, too.
“Shut up,” Shorter protested between hacking
coughs. “Nadia cooks at home!”
That only made them laugh harder, and in time,
Shorter conceded with a chuckle of his own.
Five minutes later they were trying to salvage any edible bits, still
sniggering and snorting when eyes met.
Ash discovered that, when rinsed of its fiery sauce, the meat was
actually palatable. Eiji experimented
with using the sweet buns to cancel out the spice.
With a grin, Shorter’s eyes found Ash’s over the
table, then Eiji suddenly looked up too, his dark eyes alight with
happiness. Ash smiled, content once
more as he had been that morning.