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“Peter died in Angelesk.”
“Peter was told the same thing about you.”
“In my case it was true. Besides even if he is alive, it’s been too long.” Connor’s voice hitched as he looked away. His sensual lips caught between his teeth.
“Have it your way. Look I’m not here to fence with you or make up stories; I think we’ve all had enough of Elsinger’s shit to last a lifetime. But I saw Peter a few days ago still grieving over the man he loves. Check that Doyle not loved loves; your clothes are still in the freaking closet. You work it out.”
Each word struck Connor like a blow, the strident tone, the scowling face and he withered in the face of it. Too much pain, too much time passed.
“I didn’t even know you were still alive.” Matt retook his seat and softened his voice as he dropped his head. “The President wanted to break Elsinger’s back and coerced me into doing it. It’s taken a long time Connor but finding you alive was not what I expected.”
“Peter doesn’t know yet does he?”
“No.” Matt rubbed his hand over his face. “He was on a case with Rollins in Canada.”
“Do other people know about Peter and me?” Connor folded his arms again.
“Yes. He told us a couple of weeks ago, at Lindsey’s party.”
“Then things would have been ugly with Rollins. What is it you are not telling me Mr. Praeger?"
“It’s Matt and Donahue has Peter’s six on that. He’s had to endure a lot of guilt since your “death”, mostly unjustified and largely escalated by his desire to keep his life secret.”
“Lindsey and Peter tearing at each other’s throats?” Connor’s voice was impossibly quiet and strained with fatigue.
“Lindsey was.” Matt admitted.
“And Peter?” Connor narrowed his eyes; the passionate man he knew and loved would never back down when wrongly accused. His own guilt however, was another matter.
“Became withdrawn and quiet. He only told us after he tendered his resignation to Elsinger.”
“To do?”
“Chair at Harvard.”
Connor smiled softly and Matt found himself drawn to the calm enigmatic man who sat incongruously propped in the bed. “He didn’t fight back?”
“No he didn’t. He spends most of his spare time in the gym, which has done wonders for him but he’s tired Doyle. More tired than I have ever seen him and he needs you.”
Connor scowled slightly. “Yes I heard that. Just what were you trying to achieve Matt?”
Matt shrugged; he knew the question would be asked. Doyle had the aura of intelligence that was so very rarely found and he knew that with it went an emotive ability to read other people and their motives. He would, Prager conceded, have been an awesome Case Manager and opted for a truthful response. “Peter is a friend, if nothing else I wanted people to know that Elsinger was responsible for your death. To give him some closure.”
“A convincing party line, but what was it you wanted?” Connor laid his head back against the cool pillows and fought sleep.
“To give a friend some peace.” Matt answered almost absently.
“To give Peter peace, or yourself?”
“Probably both. The docs don’t intend to spring you from here for a couple of days. If you want to go home you’ll need to co-operate.”
“No.”
“You have no reason to trust them I agree, but the White House will bring in private specialists.”
“I said no. It’s better Matt, if you don’t tell Peter and let him get on with his life. Too much has happened, too much time and pain.” Despite the pain in his voice Connor stayed calm.
“I intend to tell Peter no matter what you say, and if you want a face you can trust I’ll bring Anton here.”
“You don’t get it do you?” Anger flared in Connor as he sat bolt upright.
“Yeah I get it alright. You think that maybe the living up to the dream will leave Peter wanting something he can’t have. Nevertheless, I held him in my arms,” Matt rose from his chair and leaned over the prone man, “and watched him sob himself to sleep because he still loves you. Not the memory, not the Professor or his case manager, you Doyle- the man. And if nothing else you can shove his love back into his face and take away the guilt that’s eating him alive, because I for one Professor won’t do it.”
“Bastard.” Connor breathed the word as he slumped back against the pillows.
“Frequently. So what’s it to be, you going to play nice and talk to the doctors or do I have to drag Peter here in his condition.”
“Condition?” Connor’s eyes flew open and he searched the other man’s face, his anger a real presence in the room.
“Shit.” Matt cursed. “You may as well know Peter was hurt on the last assignment.”
“Rollins?”
“Partly. He was involved in a hostage situation that got out of hand, he was stabbed with a knife laced with a new street drug.”
“How bad is he?” Connor fiddled with the IV in his arm and frowned.
“They lost him a couple of times on the table due to blood loss, but he’s back home with his Dad and Mrs. Mac. He’ll be fine.”
“Alright.” Connor breathed softly. “Bring in Sonja or Anton’ either one I don’t care, and I want to talk to Peter.”
“Anton it is. As for talking to Peter that depends on Anton.”
“Because you doubt my sanity? Or because you’re worried about what I’ll say to him?” Connor looked up and saw the misery in Matt’s face.
“Protocol. I don’t doubt your sanity but they do.” Matt nodded towards the glass two-way mirror.
“You’re in love with him aren’t you?”
“Probably.” Matt answered before sitting down heavily in the chair. “But it’s not what you think. Peter was having a nightmare and I stayed over, my place is being painted again. Hey that’s what you get for letting a seventeen year old pick the colour scheme.”
“And?” Connor prompted gently.
“I went to see if he was okay and I held him till he slept. Same as I would do for my kid, nothing special.”
Connor smiled and reached a hand out to Matt’s shoulder. “I think it probably was very special, and a lesser man would not want me to go home. Thank you.”
“No problem; besides it’s not me you have to worry about, it’s Dana.”
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