#implied transphobia

Lars stared at the rows of meticulously sorted needles, syringes, medication bottles, and vials stacked on each shelf. The labels were all facing out, open boxes at the front and unopened ones behind those, with a few broken down boxes in a pile by the door. The floor was swept, too, and every chrome surface in the room was shined to a spit polish. They could practically see their reflection everywhere they looked, their features warped by the curved surfaces. The jumbled pile of cleaning supplies that had once been stacked in the corner now lived in its own bin. They had no idea where Marcus had gotten the bin. Even the once-dusty bottles containing the cleaning supplies had been cleaned. The only thing that seemed even remotely out of place was the stool that Jake sat on, and even that seemed precisely placed in a corner of the room.

The place looked like a different room than the one they’d walked into earlier that afternoon. It might as well have been in a different building.

They only realized their mouth was hanging open when they went to speak. “I was… mostly joking,” they said quietly. “About you tidying up.”

Out the corner of their eye, they saw Marcus freeze. They shook their head numbly.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not mad, I just… holy fuck, Marcus.”

He shuffled his feet. “It makes more sense now,” he said, his voice low.

They blinked. “More sense?”

Marcus nodded once. “Yeah. The needles are all together now, and… there were different sizes, and they’re all arranged in ascending order. The syringes, too. Everything is… it’s all placed together, and in the right order, so it’s easier to find.”

“Right,” Lars murmured. They went to the first row of needles and, sure enough, they are all 18 gauges, followed by the 21s. They 25s sat next to them. They let out a breath. “Fuck, Marcus. I’ve been meaning to organize this closet for… a year?”

“Well,” he said. “It’s done now. And I can do more, but…” He was already moving to Jake’s side, and it was as if Lars could read his mind.

Not until after he’s rested.

Lars would have agreed with him, even if their shift wasn’t over. Jake looked… better than they’d been expecting, if they were honest. He looked a little pale, a little worn down, but he was still upright, and wasn’t having the sort of screaming meltdown that they would be having if they’d just been through…

Well. They didn’t have the full picture, but from Jake’s injuries, they had a pretty clear guess.

They’d known they could leave Jake with Marcus while they handled their patients, though. If Jake had a problem, Marcus would have come to them. And in the meantime, they had seen a new patient, increased Ezekiel’s testosterone, given four injections to people who came in weekly because they weren’t able to do it themselves, dispensed two patients a month’s worth of pills, given someone advice on who to see for a decent top surgery, and done the paperwork they felt safe doing to keep the place running; as far as AMTEC knew, Lars ran a drop shipping business that sent out garbage health supplements. It had been a busy three hours.

And Marcus had been very busy. Clearly.

Even so, they were ready to head home. They rubbed their eyes and heaved a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Fuck,” they sighed. “If you’re not careful, Marcus, I’ll have you put to work every shift. This is… seriously so, so good. Thank you. Seriously.” They watched with fascination as his brows furrowed and he stared at the floor, practically cringing under the praise. They chewed their lip and turned their attention to Jake. “You about ready to head out? Ready to get back in bed? Maybe after I’ve gotten some food in you?”

Jake slid off the stool and leaned hard against Marcus’s chest as he got his balance. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “Food would be… good. But bed. Mostly bed. Just… laying down.”

Lars held out a hand and gently felt Jake’s temperature. His skin felt warm – perfectly, normally warm. They let their hand drop. “Alright, good. I’ll get you home, and we’ll get you comfy.” As they led the two men from the supply closet, they threw a glance over their shoulder. “Was this an okay outing for you? About three or four hours here? Was it too much?”

“Not too much,” Jake said, but he still leaned heavily against Marcus’s side. Lars pursed their lips and closed the door to their office. As they led them back down the hall to the reception area, they checked each patient room. They were all empty. So was the front room, except for Celeste, who was packing up her laptop at the front desk. She raised an eyebrow at Marcus as the three of them crossed the foyer and headed toward the door.

Lars chose to ignore the look – for the good of everyone. “You good to lock up, Celeste?” they said, dipping their head at Jake. “I’ve got to get this one home.”

She just stuck her thumb out at Lars, keeping her head ducked low.

Lars blew out a breath. “Thanks for your help today,” they said to her as they held the door open for Marcus and Jake.

Lars controlled their annoyance as Marcus glared around the parking lot like he was in an active warzone. They watched as his eyes swept each shadow, flicked toward every source of noise, followed every pair of headlights that passed as they walked to the car. They turned their head toward… something, trying to figure out why the sound of the three of them walking sounded so weird.

They realized: they only heard two sets of footsteps. Even with him half-carrying Jake, Marcus was walking entirely soundlessly.

They shuddered, and unlocked the car. Marcus helped Jake into the back. Lars groaned as they got into the driver’s seat.

“Take a longer way home,” Marcus croaked as Lars started the car.

They stared at him in the rearview. “I’m sorry… what?” Their stomach felt cold.

He didn’t actually need them alive; the keys to the house were on their keyring. He had given back their gun, but he knew where they kept it. He could so easily kill them, stash their body, and continue living in their house for god knows how long. Or he could kill them and run. Again.

They had just shown him where the HRT clinic was, too, so if he wanted to—

“Please just… do it,” he said quietly. “A different way this time. In case someone… Just in case. Please.” His voice faded again, so Lars could barely hear the words: “for me…?”

They drew in a shuddering breath. They hated how fast – and how often – their brain turned towards their own murder whenever Marcus did the slightest thing. They hadn’t started out afraid of him. They’d brought him to their home, after all.

But then he leapt out of bed when he was half-dead, just so he could grab a hammer to bash their brains in. He shouldn’t even have been conscious, but he’d been able to do that. Then he’d stayed awake through most of the surgery that had removed his arm from his body, even as Lars had barely been able to hold back from losing their lunch all over Todd’s garage once or twice. And they were trained for that. But he took it like it was nothing.

He’d thrown them against a wall when they came between him and Jake. He hadn’t thought twice about it. It just happened.

How many people had Marcus killed? Lars knew the AMTEC admin they’d steered him toward was dead; his murder hit the local news the morning it happened. How many more people had it been? How many people had Marcus killed as a Lev? How many deaths had he been ordered to carry out?

Is a police dog responsible for the humans those teeth savage?

But Marcus wasn’t a dog. He was a person, and, Lev or not – conscript, slave, officer or not – he had killed before.

Marcus spoke again, tearing Lars from their reverie. “Please,” he whispered.

They nodded weakly. “Yeah, Marcus. Yeah. The long… long way. No problem.” They pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the opposite direction than they normally did.

Marcus let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

They took a meandering path, turning down backroads, avoiding main streets. They knew which intersections had traffic cams on their regular route, but they didn’t feel like guessing with two wanted Levs in the car. They thought about telling Marcus and Jake to duck down, but… out of the three of them, Marcus was by far the most paranoid. If he wanted to do that, he would have already done it. Lars kept driving. Their eyelids drooped.

If they were honest, though, they probably should have been doing this from the beginning. It would be ridiculously easy for AMTEC to track them down if they had even the slightest inclination. It would take barely five minutes of analysis to see that a drop shipping business had a brick-and-mortar address where multiple other people went regularly for shifts, and multiple other people went with greater irregularity, most of whom looked suspiciously… well. It wouldn’t be the first time Lars had been targeted for looking like anything other than the long-haired princess their family expected. But if AMTEC targeted their patients…

Their fucking patients…

If it came down to Marcus and Jake, or their patients, they knew who they’d pick. It would be the easiest decision in the world.

As if Jake had read their mind, there was a gasp from the back seat. Lars glanced at the rearview mirror in alarm. “What?”

Jake was sitting straight upright and staring out the car window. His nose was pressed to the glass. “Lars?” he breathed. “Where are we?”

Lars glanced around. “Uh… Lincoln and Woodshire? I know it doesn’t look like much, but I wanted to stay away from—”

“No, I mean…” Jake swallowed hard. “What town are we in?”

Lars blinked. “Bradshaw?”

Jake let out a louder gasp and shied away from the window like he’d seen a ghost. He fell backward into Marcus’s arms. Lars’s foot fell off the gas. “What—”

“N-no,” Jake whimpered. “No, no, I c-can’t… can’t be back here, I, I can’t, please, oh no, no…”

Lars did their best to watch where they were driving as Jake dissolved into terrified whimpers. “Jake, I don’t—”

“Is this…” Marcus held Jake tight, cradling his face with his flesh-and-blood hand. “Is this where… he lives? John?”

Jake buried his face in Marcus’s chest and heaved a broken sob. “Please, Marcus,” he whimpered. “Please, I c-can’t… I can’t go back to him, not now, please don’t let him hurt me, I can’t… please…”

Lars swallowed. “Did he get… triggered by something? Or—”

“Get us home,” Marcus snapped. “Never mind about the long way. Just. Get us home. Don’t attract any attention. I need to get him home.” He unclipped Jake’s seatbelt and pulled him into his lap, cradling him against his chest like a child. Jake slung his unbroken arm around Marcus’s neck and sobbed into his neck, clinging to him like he was dangling over an abyss and Marcus was the only thing that could pull him out.

Lars immediately turned toward home, glancing in the rearview every now and then. They watched Jake shudder and sob in Marcus’s arms, and their heart broke at the sound of him crying, but their mind fixated on the low, steady sound of Marcus’s voice running beneath it, speaking in an almost constant litany: “I got you. You’re safe. You’re never going back to him. You got out, Jake. You’re safe. You’ll never have to see him again. I’d never let him hurt you. He doesn’t know you’re here, Jake, and he’ll never find you. It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.”

And, once, the sentence that sent chills up and down Lars’s spine the moment the words left Marcus’s mouth: “I’ll kill him if he ever tries to hurt you again.”

When they pulled into the driveway, Lars wet their lips and stared at Marcus in the rearview. “Wh-who is John?” they said softly.

Marcus wouldn’t look at them. “Doesn’t matter,” he said shortly. “An asshole. A monster. Someone who deserves a fucking bullet in his head. The rest is up to Jake to tell.”

Jake didn’t say anything from the circle of Marcus’s arms. He only sniffled, and when Marcus got out of the car, he clung to Marcus’s side until they finally made it to bed together.

Continued here

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