Devoted - Merritt's Story 2 - Chapter 20

This chapter is a little shorter, but every chapter from 21 to the end is a Big Deal.  I'm aiming to get the next chapter in by late April, but as I said, we're in Big Deal territory, so thorough revising/editing is key. :)

As usual, you can read the chapter inline or download the attached PDF.  And don't forget to stop by Discord if you're itching for some real time discussion/dissection of the latest chapter! :D

Psst, speaking of Discord, I've been thinking of doing another Merritt's Story chat event since I know a lot of us are holed up at home with limited contact.  I'll be stuck at home till at least 4/30.  I'm thinking maybe a live AU or bonus chapter collab - as in, I (and anyone else who wants to join in on the writing) take suggestions/requests and write a collaborative mini chapter in real time.  OR, as a complement to the last Belmont chat event, maybe it's time for a chat with Merritt?  Let me know!  And also let me know if any particular days/times work well for you.  I'm thinking maybe sometime the weekend of 4/18-4/19?  Could be much sooner if it's a weekday - I'm just trying to avoid Easter. :)

And finally - while this is a shaky month, I've seen a few new and increased pledges the past few days, and I just want to give a HUGE thanks to you and to all of my patrons, whether you're new, increased, or continuing!  I know these times are scary and unsure for a lot of us, and I appreciate every bit of generosity and support.  On that same note, if you're someone who recently needed to end or reduce support because you've hit your own rough patch, I understand 100% and I'm wishing you all the best! <3  Please do whatever you need to do to get through this.

Anyway, the chapter!

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Book 2, Chapter 20

Running late. Can I take a shower at your place? Can you let me in through the back?

Merritt’s quick text was the only warning he gave before turning up at Belmont’s suite, disheveled and spattered with blood.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Belmont asked, stunned, as he looked Merritt up and down.

Merritt’s weary eyes wavered with guilt. “I ruined the suit. I’m sorry.”

Belmont shook his head and ushered him inside. “I’ll get you another. What happened?”

Merritt fumbled for an answer. He was so tired he couldn’t see straight, let alone put up a strong enough act to convince Belmont he was okay. He’d rushed from the cave hideout with barely a suitable goodbye to Torrence. He wished with all his heart that he could have stayed for the next few days, to see Torrence improve with his own eyes. Instead, he had to trust that the medicine would do what Briar said it would do.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Belmont demanded. “What happened to your neck?”

His neck? Merritt suddenly remembered the bruise from the gala, and the crushing pressure of Gray’s arm. He’d stowed Lyra’s scarf in his motorcycle’s storage compartment before riding out to the caves, but Briar and Chase had no reason to mention the black and blue mark.

Belmont tilted his head, then masked his concern with a comedic grin. “You’re covered in blood, but you aren’t cut. Did you murder someone?”

Merritt didn’t reply. He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt as he hurried toward the bathroom. How much could he tell Belmont? Torrence’s friends were hiding out in the neutral caves for a reason, but Merritt had no idea what that reason was. All he knew was that, if Torrence had been lucid, he would have asked Merritt not to disclose his location to Belmont or anyone else in government. Merritt would have honored that request.

But he couldn’t shut Belmont out entirely. At last, he settled on, “I went to see a sick friend.”

“What? When? Have you slept at all since the gala?”

Merritt ducked into the bathroom as if he could dodge the question. He jumped into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up, then scrubbed himself down in a rush. After finishing a few minutes later, he peeked out from within the bathroom, hurriedly rubbing his head with a towel as he hid his nudity behind the door. He thought he’d heard voices while he was in the shower. He didn’t care if Belmont saw him naked, but he wasn’t sure who else might have shown up at his suite unannounced.

He spotted Belmont behind the kitchenette counter, alone. Pointing toward the bruise on his neck, he asked, “Do you have anything I can use to cover this?”

Belmont frowned. “Yes, but I’m going to need an explanation—unless your ‘sick friend’ tried to choke you out.”

“This was from the gala. I had a run-in with Gray. I’ll explain later.” Merritt gestured impatiently. “We’re going to be late for the meeting.”

With a sigh, Belmont said, “There’s fading salve in the medicine cabinet. If it doesn’t work fast enough, there’s concealer in the top drawer. It might be a little dark for you.” He chuckled. “Pale-ass blond.”

Merritt slapped on the fading salve. It worked miraculously, and he wondered how expensive it was. They certainly didn’t have anything that effective in the military district. When he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, he said to Belmont, “I asked Ellis to bring me a clean uniform. I forgot to tell you. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Already came and went,” Belmont said, pointing to a garment bag hanging on the coat rack. He held up two mugs. At his side on the kitchenette counter sat two high-end meal bars, unwrapped, each on a tiny oval plate and garnished with sprigs of what looked like real mint. Merritt had never seen someone serve a meal bar on a plate before, let alone garnish it. “Put your clothes on and sit down. I made Spark in white tea.”

“Oh.” Merritt opened and closed his mouth. He wasn’t coherent enough to express his gratitude. Instead, he gave Belmont an emphatic hug, then hurriedly got dressed.

*  *  *

The Spark and meal bar were barely enough to keep Merritt alert through the board meeting. He could feel Mercury’s eyes on him and Belmont from across the table, recalling their encounter at the gala. Mercury surely suspected that something was going on between him and Belmont. He couldn’t be too careful. Like always, he sat at Belmont’s side, but this time he was especially conscious of every movement he made and every word he spoke in support of his boss.

Exhausted as he was, he managed to hold up his cover. A few minutes into the meeting, he even began to relax. This was something he could control. He had no way to fix Torrence, no way to know how long until Torrence’s health inevitably failed again. But he could sit in this board meeting, share his expertise, and represent his military.

He’d spent months making real, tangible differences for his soldiers, and his work was paying off. Fewer casualties, higher morale, better training—at least he was making a difference somewhere. He had a seat at the table, and he was using it for good. Maybe he couldn’t save Torrence, but he saved his soldiers and civilians alike every time he came to a board meeting and stood up for their needs.

Today, he shouldered a lighter burden than usual. The majority of the discussion was between Mercury, Wolfram, and Wilson about NSTech’s upcoming pharmaceuticals schedule. However, he had to withstand a rush of discomfort when Wilson claimed, with a pointed glance at him, that his poisons work was running behind schedule because he was understaffed and his requests for volunteers from other departments had been rejected.

Belmont was quick to deflect the blame off Merritt and back to Wilson. “Your department is swimming in extra cash,” he snapped. “Why are you scrounging for volunteers who already have other jobs? If you’re understaffed, hire someone.”

“Belmont is right,” Mercury said before Wilson could argue. “There’s no shortage of candidates looking to break into D&P. Prioritize scheduling over budget. Get it done.”

“Will do, King,” Wilson said. His poker face was perfect, but Merritt felt a chill draft from his words.

Mercury glanced at the clock. “Any last items on the list?”

After a drawn-out pause, Evans said, “I have a motion I’d like to discuss.”

“All right, Evans. You have the floor.”

“In the spirit of maintaining a professional and intellectual standard for these meetings, I propose that we return to the list of attendees that were in effect before the West Sphere invasion.”

“What are you talking about?” Belmont asked. “We haven’t changed the list of attendees since then.”

Merritt clenched his teeth. He knew exactly what Evans was saying.

“These meetings are intended for Mercury’s board of advisors and industry directors,” Evans replied. “To be an advisor is to have proven your ability to make sound analytical decisions in support of our King. It is,” —he glanced at Merritt— “inappropriate to have a soldier attend such meetings on a regular basis.”

Belmont’s gaze went cold.

“General Merritt doesn’t have the pedigree or intellectual background to make decisions on the level we do. We aren’t in a state of war, so he has nothing to offer us. I move that we dismiss him from any future meeting that doesn’t directly require his input, and that we only contact him by conference call for matters that need his attention.”

Belmont clenched his fists atop the table. “The reason we aren’t currently in a state of war is because we have Merritt here to talk some sense into us at every meeting, you unfathomable ass cannon.”

Mercury shot Belmont a warning glare.

“You want to make decisions that involve our military?” Belmont continued. “Then have someone from the military in our meetings.”

“We fared fine without Rhodes here,” Pratt said. His tone was theatrically gentle, but his wily gaze was locked on Merritt.

“Military casualties are down sixty percent since Merritt has been general.”

“We’re supposed to have casualties in the military,” Evans countered. “That’s why we have soldiers. There’s more than enough of them, especially now that we’ve put in those poison traps.”

“And who came up with the poison traps?” Belmont asked. “It sure as hell wasn’t you or anyone else with your fucking ‘pedigree.’”

Merritt squirmed. It felt good—unbelievably good—to hear Belmont defend him. But Belmont was getting too passionate. Merritt had done his job and remained discreet, but he feared Belmont would blow their cover himself.

“How about we put it up to a vote?” Pratt asked.

“Of course none of you are going to vote for the guy who’s making you look stupid. This shouldn’t even be up for discussion. I’m Mercury’s right hand, and Merritt is mine. I want him here.”

“It’s not up to you,” Evans sneered.

Scowling, Belmont turned to Mercury. “Can you tell them?” he asked between clenched teeth.

Mercury folded his hands together. “Merritt’s presence here is a disruption.”

Merritt let out a low gasp. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Our meetings have become less efficient in the past months. Every straightforward decision has become a debate.”

“That’s because he’s showing us that the decisions we thought were straightforward really aren’t,” Belmont argued.

“But the only difference we’ve seen for all our effort is fewer soldier casualties. If we’d seen a significant difference in elite civilian casualties or in spending, I’d be more inclined to agree with you, Belmont. But that’s not the case.”

“The extra spending turned out to be a pretty damn good idea when the West Sphere tried to invade and got caught in our poison traps.”

“Belmont.” Mercury flashed a dangerous glare. “This room is for leaders. I understand why you enjoy having Merritt here: he’s been an exceptional servant to you. But he’s nothing more than a servant.”

Merritt’s head felt hot. He gritted his teeth, timing his breaths and holding up his poker face with all his effort.

“I might invite him to relevant meetings in the future,” Mercury continued. “But his attendance will be my decision, Belmont. Not yours.”

“Mercury,” Belmont said softly. Merritt could hear the subtle pleading note in his voice.

Mercury turned from Belmont to Merritt. “I remember once telling you to make nice with Belmont. I never imagined you’d make this nice. You two have been working very closely together. I can see that you’ve been influencing each other.” He looked back to Belmont. “Perhaps some distance would do you some good.”

Evans shot Belmont an obnoxious grin. “Motion granted, then?”

Mercury nodded. “Motion granted.”

Evans and Pratt exchanged silent, victorious smirks across the table.

Merritt was the first one out the door after Mercury dismissed the meeting. His poker face was crumbling fast, and he needed to disappear from the eyes of the board members before he fell apart. He darted for the restroom and closed the door behind him. Then he turned toward the wall, leaning against it with his face hidden. The devastation hit him so hard he felt sick to his stomach.

He’d thought he was doing well. He’d thought he was making changes for the better—changes that the people around him appreciated. His captains and colonels seemed to think so. Belmont seemed to think so. But Mercury….

Now he knew the truth of how his King saw him: a servant, a tool, a disruption. All the work he’d put into sharing his knowledge with the board was only seen as a hit to their efficiency. To Mercury and the board, the changes he’d implemented for his military were useless because soldiers were throwaways. Offal. Merritt was still offal.

He heard a soft knock. When he didn’t respond, the door inched open, and Belmont stuck his head into the room. “Hey.”

Merritt turned reluctantly. He expected Belmont to see his unconcealed emotion and reprimand him for his failed poker face. Instead, Belmont hurried inside and closed the door behind him. “You really need to get some sleep. You wouldn’t be anywhere near this upset if you were well rested.”

Merritt couldn’t respond in a steady voice, so he said nothing. He couldn’t even think clearly enough to agree or disagree.

Belmont gave a dismissive laugh, but despite his convincingly cavalier performance, Merritt could tell that Belmont was downplaying the events of the boardroom for his sake. “It’s not like you got fired. It’s just a meeting, Merritt. You don’t want to be in there anyway, do you? They’re hell.”

Merritt could only manage a whisper. “My King thinks I’m worthless.”

“Mercury is pissed off because you outsmarted him and got him to take part in that embargo against the West Sphere, and he’s been waiting for a chance to put you in your place. Remember what he said about us influencing each other? That’s what he meant. He’s being a petty asshole.”

“He said we needed distance. He knows what we—”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Belmont replied in a hushed, urgent tone.

“He saw us together at the gala,” Merritt whispered back.

“I’ve been to, like, a thousand galas. What he saw was no big deal.”

Belmont looked and sounded genuine. He was probably right; the gala was no big deal. But he and Belmont had started drawing suspicion long before the gala.

And it wasn’t just about him and Belmont. It was about what Belmont had given him permission to long for. Belmont had spent months convincing him that he was more than what Mercury and the board saw in him. He’d clung to that belief, but now he felt it slipping through his fingers.

Not a shred of his poker face remained when he met Belmont’s eyes in desperation. “Why am I doing any of this if the person I’m doing it for thinks I’m doing more harm than good?”

“Stop it,” Belmont said, his tone firm and unyielding. “You’re not doing it for him. You’re doing it for your sphere. You’re a specialist in your field, just like everyone else who attends those meetings. They all have knowledge and expertise that Mercury doesn’t.”

“He’s my King. If he says my work has no value, it has no value.”

Belmont grabbed Merritt’s arms and pulled him close, staring into his eyes. “Listen to me. Your King was wrong today. He said you’re just a servant, but he was wrong. You are my best subordinate—but you’re also the best soldier, the best officer, the best protector, the best ally. And now you’re leading our military better than anyone else ever has. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re just a servant and nothing more.”

Merritt felt stunned. He never would have expected to hear Belmont speak those sentiments out loud.

Belmont’s words should have been good enough for him. He’d reduced casualties. Morale and readiness had improved. He and Belmont worked together brilliantly. These things were important to him, even if they weren’t important to Mercury. Why wasn’t that enough? Why did his heart still feel like it was tearing in two?

Belmont cracked an impish smile. “You want to know how to tell when you’ve made it big? When the King himself takes time out of a board meeting to trash you.”

Merritt managed a laugh, mostly for Belmont’s benefit. He knew Belmont didn’t enjoy nursing other people’s wounds or helping them overcome their insecurities. But he was doing his best, saying everything that should have made Merritt feel better.

And Merritt did feel better—but just not enough better. Because Mercury was still his King, and Belmont’s words, no matter how genuine, didn’t cancel out Mercury’s.

Merritt lowered his gaze, his brows furrowed. “Am I allowed to want something my King doesn’t want for me?”

He’d said it quietly enough to hope Belmont might ignore it. But Belmont’s response came as sharp and fast as the crack of a whip. He gave Merritt a jolting shake and snapped, “He doesn’t own you.”

“He does.”

“He thinks he does.” Belmont laid his hand over Merritt’s heart and leaned in close. “But he doesn’t own this. This is yours. And you can do whatever the hell you want with it.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Merritt set his hand on top of Belmont’s. It felt like treason.

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