*Wyl*

Wyl didn't move until the smoke started to sting his eyes. Blearily he came back to himself and realized that whatever was in the pan was overheating. He jerked it off the stove and set it down on the counter. It was full of burnt French toast.

"Oh." Wyl stared at it for a minute or so. He felt feverish, but his hands were shaking with cold. He tried to sit down on one of the stools at the counter but he didn't seem to have the balance for it. He looked back into the bedroom, but Robbie's closet was still open. Only one uniform was missing, but it still looked way too empty.

Wyl finally settled for the couch in the living room, crossing his legs and tucking his hands underneath him to keep them from shaking. He laid his head back, slowly reassembling his brain. Perfect. The perfect combination of exhaustion, fear and natural stupidity had...had what? He was still piecing together what had happened, what he had done.

Wyl had wanted to make it easy. He had wanted to make it fast. Tell Robbie what he wanted to hear and let him get the ball rolling. But he had done it wrong. He had been nervous...that had made him abrupt. Abrupt was the same as rude when talking to a friend, and mean when talking to someone you loved. And he had raised his voice. And he had yelled. And he had lost his temper. He had lost...

An indeterminate amount of time passed. The door opened at some point, but Wyl could hear that the footsteps were too light to be Robbie, so he ignored them. The couch beside him shifted as someone sat, and a cool hand ran down his cheek. "Wyl, what happened?"

"I did something stupid."

"Robbie's been talking with the general for the last hour! He had Jane join them fifteen minutes ago. I tried your comm unit, why aren't you wearing it? What did you guys decide?"

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Wyl sighed. "We didn't decide anything."

"Why?" Leesie asked softly. "Did he not want to talk to you?"

"I didn't want to talk to him."

"Wyl..."

Wyl tried to wrap his mouth around an explanation for his stupidity. "I didn't want him to rationalize his decision to me, so I did it for him. I did it badly. Then he left."

"Wyl, you're crying."

"I am?" He touched his face tentatively. "I couldn't tell."

"And you look awful. When did you eat last?"

When had he last eaten? "Yesterday morning, I think."

"I knew something was wrong," she said with a sigh. "I knew it when you called me yesterday. I'll have T bring some food—"

Wyl shook his head. "Just order something."

"You don't want to see Taylor?"

"I don't want..." Wyl shifted to look at Leesie. "I don't want to talk to T. He told me that Robbie and I would fight, we talked about it yesterday. I fucked up my chance to do it right."

"There isn't a specific right or wrong way to have a disagreement. Things almost always work out."

"He's going to leave me." Why wouldn’t he, after Wyl had been so unreasonable? Who wanted to live with that?

"Is that what you wanted him to do?" she asked.

"No." Wyl's voice was thready and thin. "But I didn't know how to tell him I want him to stay without begging, and I don't want to beg and make him unhappy."

"Don't you think he wants you to be happy too?"

"I am happy. He's made me happy. I don't want him to feel obligated to stay with me when he wants to do something else."

"Wyl, you can't make a unilateral decision when it comes to issues that affect both of you." She stroked damp hair away from his forehead. "But it isn't the end of the world, either. You need to be honest, not say what you think he wants you to hear. Promise me you'll do that."

"I'll do what I can."

"Good. You want an omelet?"

Wyl smiled faintly. "Sure."

"I'll make it while you put some pants on." She glanced down. "Not that I'm not appreciative, but I think neither of our men would be."

Leesie got him to eat and drink, then left. Wyl stayed on the couch, feeling a little revived, trying to feel a little hopeful. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world. Hopefully he hadn't made Robbie so mad he would leave him permanently. He could handle six months apart, couldn't he? Would he have pushed so hard for his lover to accept the position if he'd really thought he couldn't handle it? He could handle it.

He just didn't want to.