nines

"Well, that's that," Zack commented as they walked out of the hotel. They'd left quickly and were currently walking down the street back to the truck parked a few blocks away.

Court didn't answer, just subtly looked over his shoulder to check they weren't being followed before sighing. "Now for the fun part."

Zack narrowed his eyes at Court. His snippiness was off. This felt more… sad. Almost accepting of something terrible about to happen.

Like in the trailer down in Florida. Shit. As much as Zack trusted Court to stay focused, he didn't trust the man to keep himself alive, let alone healthy— mentally or physically.

Zack kept quiet until they reached the truck. "Gimme the keys." He held his hand out and stepped in front of the driver's side door to stop Court from entering.

Court looked him up and down, tilting his head. "Why?"

"Come on," Zack waved his open hand at Court. "Let's get some drinks, finish this tomorrow. We have time."

Court shook his head and glanced down at his shoes. "Have to do this now."

"Nah, you really don't," Zack shot back. "Carmichael will still be hiding away when we come knocking tomorrow… Take a break tonight."

Court fidgeted with the truck keys in his hand, biting his lip lightly as he thought. "…Okay," He whispered, giving a small nod and tossing the keys to Zack.

Zack smiled as he caught the keys. "Thank you, kindly." He unlocked the truck, and they got in.

Zack watched Court buckle in and almost completely slump back into the seat. Court put his head against the window and tapped his foot on the floorboard. Zack didn't know what the fuck to do, so he just started the truck and got on the road.

They left the state, the truck playing the radio at a low volume, and Zack found a place where they could get drinks without being watched by cameras.

It was a wonderfully seedy place, and they walked in as the sun went down. Zack led Court to a corner of the room with a view of the entrance and potential exits and sat down in a booth.

Court sat down on the other side of the table, wincing when he put his hand on the tabletop to stabilize himself.

"You alright?" Zack glanced between Court's arm and face.

Court sat down and put his hands in his lap. "I'm fine."

He literally couldn't sound less convincing to Zack.

"Then show me." Zack knew he might be tempting fate with saying that, but if Court's hiding an injury before a fight… a fight they were supposed to be in tonight.

Court placed both of his hands on the table and pulled up his sleeve. His arm was wrapped with bandages that looked dirty and were actively falling apart. "It looks worse than it is," Court whispered.

He tugged his sleeve back down and slipped his hands off the table as a waitress approached their table. Zack stared a hole through Court as they both ordered drinks. When the waitress left their table without a word, Zack blinked at Court. "Are you fucking serious?"

Court rolled his eyes and looked away from Zack. He figured he was in for a lecture when Zack caught his flinch.

"You were gonna go to that fucking fortress with that and not tell anyone first?" Zack kicked Court's ankle under the table when he shook his head. "Dude! We have shit you could use."

Court shrugged. "It's not important." He picked up the napkin on the table and started fidgeting with one of the corners.

Zack bit his tongue, knowing this fight wasn't worth it. Court's always been this way, but clearly being on the run for so long has made this problem more severe.

The waitress came back as Zack thought about… everything he'd learned and seen in the past day. He thanked her but barely paid any mind to the drink in front of him.

Court picked up his drink and started sipping it immediately. He placed the glass down afterwards and wiped some of the condensation off the sides of it. He was stalling, and Zack could see him warring with himself.

So, Zack decided for him.

"Dude, what happened?" Zack murmured. "Saw you in Sudan and even then shit was going wrong for you."

Court traced the rim of the drink, following the path his finger took with distant eyes. "Beats me," Court sounded dejected. It felt wrong to Zack. Like something so much more than he knew happened to make Court of all people act this way.

"Then start with Sudan," Zack suggested quietly. He finally reached for his drink and took a sip. When the glass was placed on the table, Court's eyes moved to look into Zack's. They seemed so tired.

"Start where in Sudan?" Court said. Zack thought maybe he was joking, but Court looked completely drained right now, so there was no way that was possible. He was genuinely asking at what point in Sudan he should start telling Zack about. That doesn't bode well.

Zack thought. May as well be blunt. It's Court. "Why were you high?" He honestly wondered if Court would walk out after being asked that, but all the man did was frown.

"Pain meds," Court mumbled and drank maybe half of his glass in one go. "We're gonna need more alcohol if we're gonna talk about this."

Zack leaned his head on his hand, intrigued and worried. "Why'd you have pain meds?"

"Old injury," Court responded. "Needed good pain meds to recover… got reliant on 'em."

Zack nodded and sat back in the booth. "Must have been pretty bad of an injury…"

Court hummed but didn't give away anything more. He finished his glass and pushed it away from himself. "It was… I hated it," He confessed. "Hated me for allowing myself to do that."

Zack furrowed his brows. "Allowed yourself to what?" What the fuck was Court talking about?

Court looked at him like he was stupid. "For getting addicted to fucking pain killers. I'm better than that. I'm trained to do better than that."

Zack leaned forward and pushed his glass towards Court, motioning for him to just take his drink for himself. Jesus. He's gonna need more than a drink to talk about this.

"Do you think addiction is easy?" Zack asked without judgment. He was just curious about Court's thoughts.

Court shrugged. "It's different when it's other people. They're not supposed to be like me. Of course, they struggle, but I shouldn't be like them."

Zack blinked. That's certainly a way to think of oneself, huh? "Court…" He mumbled. "What'd you take in Sudan?"

"Morphine," Court admitted, head down. "It was— I just needed to be able to focus. That's it."

Jesus, he thought Zack would judge him. Goddamn it.

"Court." Zack tapped the table in front of where Court's eyes were pointed. When he looked up at Zack, he couldn't hold eye contact for more than a few seconds. "Court, I'm not judging."

Maybe hearing that would help Court open up. Not like Zack deserved Court opening up to him, but he did want to help his old friend out as much as he could.

"You should," Court responded bitterly.

Zack tapped his fingers on the table as he thought. Maybe shift the conversation away from that… at least for now.

"So, you get out of Sudan," Zack said and smiled as he remembered just how they got out of the country. Always exciting, their lives. "What then?"

Court glanced between Zack's drink and Zack. Zack motioned him to take the glass with a waved hand, and Court picked up the glass. He drank maybe a third of it before setting it down on the table.

Zack was mentally preparing himself for the bill. Whatever it took for Court to talk, he guessed.

"Uhh… South America," Court shrugged. "Bounced around for a while. Made friends with a dog." He nodded to himself with a little nostalgic smile.

Zack snickered. "You name your dog friend? You give him belly rubs?" He teased Court and tapped his ankle under the table with his boot.

Court huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Nah, we just stuck around each other," He trailed off and then smiled. "But yeah, I gave him belly rubs."

Zack knew that Court would pet the damn dog. Animals and kids; those were Court's soft spots.

"Guessing you," Zack snorted as he thought of the video footage of the Gray Man in Mexico. "Moved North?"

Court sighed and nodded. "Sure did… it wasn't supposed to be more than a day."

"Lemme guess…" Zack pretended to think, hand on his chin. "Damsel in distress?"

Court took another long sip of his drink. "Something like that."

Zack watched him for a moment. Did he look tenser than he did talking about the morphine in Sudan, or was Zack seeing things?

Zack was going to steer the conversation away from… whatever was making Court like this, but Court actually continued the conversation.

"Guy I knew died," Court's eyes were sorrowful, filled with longing. "His family was being hunted… so I helped."

Zack watched Court lean against the table, not caring about the obvious pain it caused his injured arm.

Zack waved over a waitress and asked for two more drinks. When the woman left to grab their order, Zack turned his head back to see Court's eyes glossy.

Zack whistled, a quiet and sharp sound, to get his attention. Court blinked and sat up again. He hummed at Zack questioningly, and Zack wasn't sure how to broach this topic.

"Something happened?" Zack asked, but he knew that something had happened. Something that shook Court enough for him to lose focus and become teary-eyed.

Court sat back in the seat, and Zack could hear his boot tapping the floor. Zack didn't try to get him to speak anymore, content with leaving the conversation there if the man didn't want to continue.

The waitress returned to the table with two drinks, set them in front of them, and took away the empty glasses. Zack offered a dismissive 'thank you' to her, not taking his eyes off of Court.

Court mechanically reached for a glass and took a drink from it. Zack thought he saw a tear fall into the liquor, but the man ducked his head so he couldn't be sure.

"I don't know," Court said honestly. "I don't… can that happen?" He asked, brows furrowing as he looked down at the table.

"Can what happen?" Zack responded softly. He had an… idea of what Court was really asking, but he didn't want to get emotional for no reason. Better to let Court explain, even if it took the man a lot out of him to do so.

Court went silent. Sure, the alcohol was starting to work through him— he'd barely had anything to eat or drink today— but he wasn't sure if he could say what he was thinking even while blackout drunk.

"If someone said 'no', would you stop?" Court said, voice small and beginning to shake. He gripped the glass in his hands till his knuckles were white and refused to look anywhere near Zack.

"What?" Zack blurted out. There's no fucking way Court meant what Zack was thinking, right?

Court seemed to close up at that and shook his head. "It's stupid, let's just—"

"No, no," Zack interjected. "No, I just— What do you mean, is all?" Zack was quick to correct his mistake, hoping that Court would open up again.

Court was quiet for a minute, staring at the wood of the table blankly as he hesitated on answering. "You know," He shrugged. "If someone said 'no', would you listen? Stop?" His eyes darted across the table as he spoke. They landed on Zack's hands as he waited for an answer.

"I'd listen," Zack responded easily. "I'd stop. Why wouldn't I?" He asked his question quietly. Zack tilted his head to try to see Court's face, but he couldn't; the man's hair was covering it even at this angle.

It was silent.

The rest of the restaurant was loud from idle chatter and music coming from a poor speaker, but their booth was so still and so silent, it worried Zack. This was the wrong kind of quiet. Especially with this kind of silence coming from Court.

"Court…?" Zack trailed off and shifted his hands to rest closer to his chest— and therefore his face. Court's eyes followed the movement, but he didn't look up.

"Why didn't—" Court cut himself off and took a stuttering breath in. Zack saw a tear fall onto the tabletop, and his eyes widened. Holy shit.

"She didn't," Court whispered brokenly. He brought a napkin up to his face and hid behind it. Zack sat still as he absorbed Court's words.

"Court—" Zack went to speak, but Court wiped his face off with the napkin and stood from the booth. He threw down more than enough money for their drinks and practically ran out of the restaurant without even glancing at Zack.

"Shit," Zack whispered and got up from the table quickly. He was sure what the fuck he'd do once he caught up to Court, but he needed to find the man fast before he disappeared.

Zack left the restaurant, and it was dark outside. He had the keys to the truck in his pocket, so he fucking prayed that Court just went back to the truck. Zack hoped he didn't run away and did the rest of their work himself… that'd just be suicide.

Oh. That makes sense, doesn't it?

Zack jogged over to the parking lot and thankfully spotted Court hidden behind the side of his truck. Zack walked up to him, tapping the hood of the truck as he came up from behind, and saw that Court was sitting on the ground.

The man was tucked against the front wheel of the truck. Zack had parked in the corner of the parking lot, so no one had their eyes on Court right now. Court had one leg pulled up to his chest and was clinging to it with his hands like a lifeline.

Zack crouched down beside him and then sat on the ground next to him, looking forward. "You overtipped," He tried.

Court sniffled, and Zack turned his head towards him. Court was wiping off his face, and his hands were shaking.

"Stupid," Court mumbled to himself. Zack pressed his shoulder lightly against his in response. He knew he'd never be able to say the right thing… but maybe he could offer his shoulder for Court to lean on.

"You're a big dummy," Zack teased him, hoping maybe this could be a distraction. "That big of a tip? Have you seen the econo— Oh, wait, you haven't been in the States in a while, huh."

Court elbowed him in the side without any real force. Good, that's better than crying.

They sat there for a while, Court leaning more and more into Zack as time went on. Court dropped his leg and let it lie out in front of him. He put his hands on his lap and toyed with the edge of his shirt.

Zack didn't want to break this precarious silence, so he waited patiently for Court to talk.

"…I said 'no'," Court croaked out. His voice was shot from crying, even if his tears had been silent. "She— I coulda—"

"Coulda done nothing," Zack cut him off firmly. "You said you were protecting that guy's family, right?"

Court nodded, slumping a little more into Zack's side. "He was a good man. He saved my life. The least I could do was help his family after he died."

Zack shook his head lightly. Classic Court Gentry, right there. Saving everyone but himself. "…Doesn't change what she did, man," He tapped his pointer finger against the knuckles of Court's hand. Court's eyes followed the movement, happy to focus on something other than this conversation.

"Maybe he was a good man, but one person isn't another," Zack spoke a bit louder, more than a whisper now.

Court breathed out at Zack's words. It was hard to process. It was hard to agree; all he saw when he looked at Laura was Eddie. "I was okay with it later," Court reasoned with himself aloud. "Just 'cause I said 'no' initially doesn't change—"

Zack put his hand over Court's. "You said 'no'. She shoulda listened. That's all there is to it." He sounded angry, even to himself. Even Zack couldn't always control his anger. Especially when one of his own was endangered, hurt, scared— whatever.

Court dropped his head down, and a few silent tears slipped down his cheeks. "You would listen?" He asked Zack for the third time, even though he knew the answer. He just needed to hear it again.

Zack squeezed his hand comfortingly. "If someone said 'no', I would stop. I'd listen." Court smacked the back of his head into the side of the truck and cried louder. He wasn't silent anymore. Zack could hear his harsh breathing and small whimpers as he gasped for air.

"Fuck, Court," Zack turned halfway towards Court and reached a hand out to pull his head away from the truck so he wouldn't hurt himself again, but hesitated.

Court saw his open hand— saw how Zack hesitated to touch him while in distress— and cried harder. "Zack…" He choked out. Court looked at Zack pleadingly, begging him with his eyes for help.

Zack laid his hand on Court's shoulder and pulled him away from the truck. "C'mere," He whispered.

Court sat up and pushed his head into Zack's shoulder. Zack put his hand on Court's upper back, but didn't move it. Court's hand came up to grip his shirt as he began to cry openly, not trying to be as quiet anymore.

Zack didn't move, just let Court cry and put his chin on the top of the man's head. All he could think about was 'who'. Who the fuck did this? He knew there was more to what happened, but he was not going to fucking pry. That's the last thing Court needed right now.

Zack also had a feeling this wasn't the end of their 'catching up' conversation, too.

Court was probably more emotional with the alcohol in him, sure, but it seemed like he's been needing to cry like this for a while.

Court wrapped his arms around Zack without thinking and held onto him tightly. "You're the only one I've told," He mumbled into Zack's shirt as his tears stopped flowing. He sniffled once and then pulled away from Zack, clearing his throat as his face turned red. "This is stupid."

Zack squeezed his shoulder once, then pulled away. "If it was, I'd have told you."

Court wiped his face and brushed a hand through his hair. "Jesus, I'm a mess," He muttered to himself.

Zack shrugged and sat back against the truck again. His shirt was wet from tears, but he didn't much care about that right now. "Of course you are," Zack stated, like it was obvious. "You go through shit, and eventually you gotta deal with it."

Court leaned back against the truck next to Zack, closer to him this time. "I guess…"

They sat there quietly for a few minutes, listening to the faint sounds coming from the restaurant and people walking back to their cars.

Zack looked up at the sky and thought about how much he'd like to find out who hurt Court. Maybe he could get someone up top to help. He's definitely going to be owed a few favors after this job…

"Then I went all over Europe and found out I was trained by the CIA 'cause I have no personality— emotionless," Court continued their conversation from inside sluggishly. "A sociopath that was in the same program told me… and then tried to kill me and assassinate the Prime Minister of Israel."

Zack looked over at Court. "What?" Well, that was… a lot of new information, wasn't it?

No personality and Court didn't really go together in Zack's head— unlike when they'd first met.

Also, a sociopath told him this shit?

"Dude, what the fuck?" Zack continued when his brain fully processed what Court had just said. "You clearly have emotions, my shirt can attest to that." He pulled at a piece of his shirt in emphasis, hoping Court wouldn't be embarrassed.

Court scoffed at him and bumped Zack's boot with his own. "I'll burn that shirt to remove the evidence." He blinked slowly, and Zack realized that maybe the amount of alcohol and the breakdown were wearing Court down faster than he thought they would.

"Come on." Zack elbowed Court lightly and stood up, dusting off his pants. He held a hand out for Court to take, and the man grabbed hold of him. Zack heaved Court to his feet and took some of his weight when he stumbled. "You a lightweight now?" He pulled out his keys and unlocked the truck.

Zack kept an arm around Court's shoulder as he opened the door and helped him get in the truck.

"Shut up, Hightower," Court grumbled, grabbing his seatbelt and trying and failing at least four times to get it secured.

Zack smirked and shut the door. He walked around to the other side of the truck and got in the driver's seat. As he shut the door, he started the truck and then put on his seatbelt.

"Anything else happen you wanna tell me?" Zack said, really hoping there wasn't anything left to talk about. But if Court did have more to say, Zack would listen.

"Uhh," Court put his head against the window, following the street lights with his eyes. "Got shot through the forearm by that sociopath, that's why it's all fucked up, and then got shot in the ribs by those guys we took out at the hotel."

Court turned to smile stupidly at Zack, and Zack considered crashing the truck to put himself out of his misery. Of fucking course Court was shot recently and never said anything.

"Dude, you're trying to kill me, here." Zack sighed heavily as he shook his head. He'll have to patch Court up before their big plan.

"And then you walked in on me trying to kill myself," Court murmured, picking at the leather seat beneath him.

Zack took a deep breath and remembered that he cannot lose his mind with Court present. He can do that later.

"Would you have done it if I didn't show?" Zack needed to know. Call him paranoid, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the memory of Court shoving a gun in his mouth, ready to pull the trigger, was going to stick with him for the rest of his life. However long that is.

"Probably," Court shrugged, like this was a casual thing to admit. To talk about at all. "I killed an innocent person, Zack." He started tearing up again and Zack realized he should've kept his mouth shut.

"It was a setup, you heard Hanley and that lady from the paper. Wasn't your fault." Zack put his right hand on Court's shoulder and shook him gently. "I mean it."

Court didn't answer, but he blinked back his tears. He sniffled once and patted Zack's hand on his shoulder. Zack put his hand back on the steering wheel and focused on driving.

He saw Court get more comfortable in the seat out of the corner of his eye and figured he'd get some sleep. He was gonna need it anyway.

"Got sliced by a crocodile in South America, too," Court whispered with his eyes closed, looking like he was asleep. He huffed a laugh at the memory. "Some Indiana Jones shit, lemme tell you."

Man, drunk and fragile Court sure did like to go between fun and calm and sad and suicidal far too much. Zack thought as he rolled his eyes at Court.

"A fucking crocodile?" Zack turned away from the road to stare at Court. The man was actually asleep now, leaving Zack to deal with everything he'd just told him.

"Dammit, Gentry," He said to himself as he focused on driving again.

Maybe they'd talk about this talk they had had, or maybe they'd pretend like it never happened.