The Walls Of Troy Part 5

"Guess we will." I gritted my teeth. "Ugh. I f.u.c.king hate crowds."

"Me too."

"We can take the long way around. Looks like it's less crowded."

Troy shook his head. "Nah, it's fine." He pushed his shoulders back. "It's just a festival. We can walk through it." He glanced at me. "Besides, the coffee shop's on the other side, and I am dying for a hit of caffeine."

"Works for me."

G.o.dd.a.m.n, I hated crowds. Especially when I was in cop mode. Too much noise, too much motion. There was no way to home in on anything, to antic.i.p.ate any movement that might create a dangerous situation. My worst nightmare was working riot control, and dealing with docile crowds was only marginally better than that.

As the mob around us thickened, I stepped closer to Troy. Not quite close enough to crowd him but enough to keep anyone from slipping in between us. I was tempted to put a protective hand on his back but decided that was overkill-this was just a bunch of college kids celebrating...something. And if the danger to Troy was from h.o.m.ophobes, then even the most platonic physical contact probably wasn't a good idea.

So I just stayed close as we inched our way across the packed courtyard. We were definitely taking the long way around after this. Because f.u.c.k crowds.

Almost to the other side, though. Almost. Then we'd be home free, and we- Troy halted so abruptly, his sneaker squeaked on the cobblestone.

"What's-" My blood turned cold. "Troy?"

His whole body went rigid, his eyes widening.

"Troy?" I touched his shoulder. "You with me?"

He didn't respond. Color rapidly drained from his face, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. Each breath was shorter and shallower than the one before it.

I stepped in front of him, cupped his face, and forced him to look right at me. "Breathe, Troy. I'm right here."

He looked at me.

No. Through me.

Wherever he was, and wherever he was looking, it wasn't here. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and herded him through the crowd to the nearest building. Inside, I guided him into the alcove just behind the doors, and helped him into one of a few metal folding chairs up against the wall.

Jesus, he was shaking. Sweating. Breathing fast.

I hooked my foot around another chair and brought it close enough for me to sit beside him. I kept my arms around him, stroking his hair. "Easy, Troy," I whispered. "You're all right. You're safe."

I didn't know how much time pa.s.sed. I thought I heard people moving through the foyer, and was vaguely aware of myself telling someone "he's all right" before they continued down the hall.

Eventually, though, he stopped shaking quite so badly, and his breathing evened out. He started to draw back a little, and as I loosened my embrace, I was startled when he loosened his. When had he put his arms around me? h.e.l.l, it didn't matter. If it brought him back to earth, fine.

"You okay?" I asked.

He nodded and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a hand on his forehead.

"Troy." I clasped his other hand between both of mine, lacing my fingers between his sweaty ones. "Look at me."

His expression was blank as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

"Just breathe," I said quietly. "It's just you and me here. No one else is around. Just breathe."

He blinked a few times. Then his eyes s.h.i.+fted toward me, and thank G.o.d, he was back in the here and now. Firmly, I hoped.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He ran a shaking hand through his black hair. "I guess, uh...the crowd got to me more than I thought." He shuddered, sitting back and rubbing his arms as if trying to get warm in spite of the stuffy room. He looked out at the courtyard, but as I watched him, I realized his eyes weren't focused. Not on anything nearby, anyway.

"Troy?"

He blinked again, refocused his eyes, and turned to me. "Sorry. What?"

"You were starting to zone out again."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'm just making sure you're-"

"I'm fine. I, uh, I need to..." He wiped some sweat off his forehead and scowled. "Wash my hands."

Without a word, I took him down the hall to the men's room. He cupped his hands under the faucet, leaned down, and splashed some water on his face. After he'd dabbed his face dry with a paper towel, he rested his hands on either side of the sink and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and evenly for a moment. The shaking had mostly stopped, and he wasn't quite so pale now. That was a start.

"Better?" I asked.

Without looking up, Troy nodded. "I'll be fine." He spoke through clenched teeth, almost croaking, as if he was trying to keep his breakfast from coming up. That seemed like a valid concern to me, given how I'd seen this kind of thing play out with some of my combat-scarred buddies back in Yokosuka, so I didn't push him to say anything else.

Finally, he shook himself back to life but didn't move away from the mirror. He dabbed at his eye makeup, smoothing away the muddy smears of eyeliner. Then he pulled a thin black pencil from his bag, leaned closer to the mirror, and carefully reapplied the makeup.

I didn't say anything. Maybe we'd be late to cla.s.s at this point, maybe we wouldn't, but if there was one thing I'd learned after serving with guys who had PTSD and the requisite flashbacks, it was that this stage was necessary. He was bringing himself back to a state of equilibrium. Fixing his makeup so he wouldn't catch his reflection in a mirror and remember what had happened. Doing something normal because that meant everything was normal, which meant everything was okay. I didn't dare interfere with that.

With his makeup meticulously fixed, he put the pencil back in his book bag and stood straighter, tugging at his s.h.i.+rt and fussing with his hair. Then he set his shoulders back and turned to me. "Okay. I think I'm good. We should get to cla.s.s."

I didn't move. "We have time."

He eyed me.

I hooked my thumbs in my pockets. "Has this happened before?"

Troy stiffened just slightly. d.a.m.n it. His Adam's apple jumped, and his gaze darted away from mine, ostensibly to inspect his reflection for the hundredth time. As he rearranged a few strands of hair with a somewhat steady hand, he said, "Let's just get to cla.s.s, all right?"

I expected his usual abrasiveness, but it wasn't there. Not even a little. Nothing about this was normal, or at least not what I'd come to expect from Troy, but I didn't want to push him either. We could discuss this later. In the car, maybe. But digging down to the roots of his issues now, when he was still raw from a panic attack, wouldn't do anyone any good.

Adjusting my book bag on my shoulders just for something to do, I asked, "You sure you're okay?"

Troy nodded but didn't look at me. "I'm fine," he murmured. "We should... We should really get to cla.s.s. We're going to be late."

"We can skip today."

Still focused on rearranging his hair, he managed a quiet laugh. "Are you encouraging me to cut cla.s.s?" His eyes darted toward mine in the mirror. "Contributing to my delinquency?"

I stayed serious. "I don't think it'll do you any good to go if you're this shaken up."

"I'm fine." He smiled, but it was obviously forced. His eyes were wide, and I swore I could feel the please, just go with it radiating off him.

I gulped. "All right. Let's go."

His pierced eyebrow arched as if he hadn't expected me to back off.

I cleared my throat. "Did you still want to stop and get some coffee?" G.o.d knew I didn't need any caffeine now.

"Yeah. Definitely." He picked up his bag and shouldered it, and I followed him out of the men's room. "I guess we can just cut around." He took a step toward the breezeway that would take us around to the other side of the building we wanted, but he halted. "On second thought, let's go back that way."

I hesitated. "Through the festival again?"

"Yeah. It'll be fine."

"Except-"

"It'll be fine," he growled.

Will it?

On the other hand, there was a chance he was doing this to face down whatever had set him off. I knew people who'd done the same thing after having an episode like that. Maybe the crowd and noise had blindsided him, triggered him when he hadn't realized they would, and now that he knew, he wanted to walk through there again to desensitize himself. I wasn't so sure about doing it so close on the heels of the panic attack-flashback?-but maybe he needed to get back on the horse that threw him now instead of trying to psych himself up for it later.

"After you," I said quietly. "I'll be right behind you."

He nodded. "Okay."

Troy walked fast and kept his head down but didn't seem all that jumpy. In fact, the deeper we walked into the thick crowd, the less tense he was. What the f.u.c.k? I was the nervous wreck now, watching him and watching everyone around us, certain all h.e.l.l was about to break loose, but with every step, he seemed further and further from the kid who'd freaked out and fallen apart not twenty minutes ago.

We broke free of the crowd and made it into the air-conditioned building. Troy took in a deep breath through his nose and grinned. "Mmm, coffee."

I hadn't even noticed the scent, though I did now that he'd pointed it out. My senses were still buzzing from being out there.

Troy started toward the coffee shop, but I touched his arm. "Wait."

"Hmm?" He met my eyes, and his confident, almost carefree expression faltered slightly, his lips tightening and his forehead creasing. "What?"

"What's going on?"

"We're getting coffee." He nodded toward the coffee shop. "So we can get to cla.s.s."

"Right. Anything else?"

He avoided my eyes.

"Troy, look at me. Please."

He faced me, setting his jaw and pressing his lips together.

"I need to know. What is going on?"

"I told you." He nodded in the direction we'd just come. "I don't like crowds."

Bulls.h.i.+t. Bulls.h.i.+t!

But his eyes begged me not to push the issue.

Let it go. Please, please, just let it go.

"Okay." I adjusted my backpack strap on my shoulder again. "Let's get some coffee."

Chapter Five.

At 0700 sharp, I was again waiting at the base of the grand staircase as Troy and Talos came down. Troy shouldered his book bag, and of course paused to say good-bye to the dog.

He glanced up at me, apparently not at all concerned about how close his hand was to that enormous set of teeth. "You can pet him, you know."

I drew back a little, trying not to eye the dog. "Uh, that's okay."

"So, you're not an animal person or something?"

"I like animals fine. Just not dogs."

"Why's that?"

"Just...not a dog person. Now, hand me a cat, and it's a different story."

His eyes lit up. "I love cats."

I smiled. "They're great, aren't they? I miss having one."

"Why not get one?"

"I'd love to, but I move around too much, and I've been on some deployments. Maybe when I retire."

"I'd get one, but..." He nodded down the hall, in the general direction of his father's office. "Dad's allergic."

"d.a.m.n. But he's okay with..." I gestured at Talos.

"Dogs don't bother him a bit. Thank G.o.d." Troy patted the dog's shoulder, and I tried not to notice just how much emphasis he'd put on those last two words.