Diego: Part I

Four in the morning was too early to be awake. It was a time for vampires and werewolves to start winding down for the night as the living slept off hangovers from all-night benders. Birds didn't come out to sing happy songs and roosters didn't crow because the sun wasn't up. More importantly, they'd be shot for disturbing the peace at such an ungodly hour.

Diego scrubbed his face with his palms, yawning discreetly behind his hands as his squad trudged into formation. They too, were exhausted from Ackerman's sadistic training regimen. After running everyone until they puked the night before, it was a marvel any of them were standing.

Personally, Diego didn't care for his partner's tactics, even if they were effective at instilling discipline into the soldiers. His own body screamed in protest, and he was in shape. He couldn't imagine how his squad felt.

Ackerman approached, slapping him on the back in greeting. The first time that happened, Diego almost face-planted. This time, he was better prepared and managed not to move.

"I'd hate to see how you greet your enemies," he grumbled through a second yawn.

"Oh, it wasn't that hard," Ackerman replied, way too damn chipper this morning. It was as if he was born with coffee in his system, and he kept going like the Energizer Bunny.

Diego rolled his eyes and did a mental headcount. Since the day the sergeant made an example of that soldier, no one dared to show up late or argue. They followed direction to the letter, though they still lacked a sense of teamwork.

And as for that soldier, Diego had gone to the infirmary the next day to check on him, only to discover he'd been reassigned somewhere else. Diego hadn't seen him since, and he wondered if that kid was doing better in his new role.

With a mental sigh, Diego stood through morning formation as the squad swayed on their feet. The headcount should have been enough for the report, but noooo, Sergeant Ackerman wanted to talk this morning. What someone had to say for twenty minutes straight with hardly any breath between sentences was beyond him, but by the time his partner finished, Diego was ready to declare mutiny.

Then, Ackerman called the squad to attention before leading them through the morning warm-ups and exercises. Afterward, they were released to shower and have breakfast.

"Be back here in formation at 08:00," Ackerman commanded. "That's more than enough time to get everything done. We have something big today. Dismissed."

A collective sigh rang throughout the group before they dispersed, leaving Diego with his sadistic partner. Running his hands through his hair, Diego shoved his hands in his pockets and followed behind.

Ackerman caught up to him quickly, falling in step beside him. "What's with you lately?"

"Hm? Oh, just tired," Diego mumbled, not in the mood to chat.

"That's not it," his partner replied. "You seem..." he uncharacteristly gestured his hands, as if searching for the right words, "I don't know, like your head isn't in it this morning. What's on your mind?"

Diego shrugged, shivering in the morning chill. Like Phoenix, the climate was similar with low precipitation and mild winters, but the nighttime temperatures were still cold compared to the hot summers.

He remained silent, turning over the state of his mood in his mind. His head was never in his work these days. After all, what was the point? The world had ended, and every day was a matter of going through the motions, doing the same things while everyone waited; to live, to die, or for a change that would never come. This place was a bubble, primed to explode at any moment and shatter what was left of reality.

"D, you can talk to me," Ackerman said, placing a hand on Diego's shoulders and forcing him to stop.

Could he? Diego wondered. Ackerman was nice, if not a little obnoxious, but he was one of them. How much of what they did or said went up the chain of command? Diego might not have been a soldier, but he wasn't stupid; he knew how the world worked even before the apocalypse.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, faking a smile. "I'm just tired."

The lie was weak, and Ackerman frowned, but didn't press it. "All right. See ya after chow?"

He couldn't say breakfast like a normal person? Chow was another military word and reminder that this place was controlled by the government -- or what was left of it.

"Sure."

When they parted, Diego headed toward the habitat wing, hoping to catch Taylor. For whatever reason, he'd missed dinner, and when Diego went by the Whittaker quarters, John had said Taylor hadn't returned since leaving the hospital wing.

As he traversed the hallways, Reveille, First Call, or whatever it was, blared on the public speakers, and he groaned. Diego knew he should be thankful to be alive, but holy moly, he didn't sign up for this shit.

Signs of life appeared in the form of sleepy-eyed people trudging out of their rooms, carrying towels and wearing flip-flops. Unlike the executive suites, the little people didn't have the luxury of their own showers. Instead, each floor was assigned a set of public bathrooms and very little privacy. And with everyone using the facilities at once, the water was guaranteed to be freezing.

When he reached the suite, he raised his hand to press the buzzer, but froze as Monica's door opened and she walked out with Taylor behind her.

His heart raced at all the implications, and he forced himself to remain calm. There could be any number of reasons they left the room together, and it wouldn't do anyone any good to jump to conclusions.

Monica looked up first, and met him with a smile as if she didn't just come out of her room with his boyfriend. "Good morning, Diego. How are you?"

Smile and don't snap, he commanded himself. Possessive men aren't attractive.

But the devil on his shoulder had to give his damn input too, questioning if it was jealousy to wonder why Taylor was with his ex-girlfriend when he couldn't be bothered to meet Diego the night before.

Nope, that was still jealousy and not at all his place to tell anyone what they could do or who they could see.

Before he could respond without making an ass out of himself, Taylor's head snapped up and his gaze widened. Then his face flushed as he shook his head. "D, this isn't what it looks like."

Was Diego being that obvious? He worked his jaw for a moment, then gathered his wits and turned, preparing to walk away before he said something he'd regret later. If he approached this with a cool head, he'd be more inclined to listen.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other ideas. The door to Taylor's suite whooshed open, and John walked out, wearing his typical collared shirt and slacks, appearing fresh as a daisy.

And in his state, Diego didn't catch himself in time, walking straight into the older man's chest.

"Lo siento," he muttered in his native tongue, reaching out automatically to steady Taylor's dad. Then he hurried around him, trying to put distance between himself and everyone else, ignoring the stares digging into his back.

"D, wait," Taylor called behind him, followed by a snappish, "Not now, Dad!"

John was faster than his son, and caught up with Diego, falling into step beside him. "Make an excuse and follow me," he ordered in a whisper.

Diego almost tripped. What did he want? At the same time, he was secretly relieved to be given an out to something he wasn't ready to face without giving it consideration first. That, and he was a bit curious to know what was on Whittaker's mind.

Turning around again, he waited until his boyfriend caught up. Monica moved past them without a word, probably as uncomfortable as everyone else. Taylor stopped, watching him with pleading eyes. "I swear, nothing happened," he insisted, gesturing his hand as he spoke. "I came back late from duty and didn't want to see--" Taylor stopped midsentence, flicking his gaze momentarily at John. Then he cleared his throat and stared at the floor, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. "Well, you get it."

Yeah, he did. Diego hadn't exchanged many words with the man, but the tension was visible in the way Taylor refused to look at him and the way John's shoulders tensed every time his son pushed him away. And it was one-hundred percent relatable. Diego couldn't be in the same room with his father. The only difference was John seemed less prone to violence.

Also, duty? When had he been assigned to work? Apparently, a lot had happened between leaving the hospital wing and missing each other last night.

With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

Taylor flinched and Diego's heart clenched. Why did he feel bad? It wasn't like they were serious, yet there was an overwhelming need to protect and uplift the other man. Considering how fast they were moving, it was terrifying, but he was emotionally invested whether he wanted to be or not.

The least Diego could do was hear him out. But not right now.

Softening his tone, he said, "I promise we'll talk about it later, but not here." He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head once in John's direction, continuing after Taylor acknowledged him with a slight nod. "I refuse to be one of those toxic boyfriends who tells you how to act or who to be friends with, but I do have questions. I just can't ask them right now, okay? Let me clear my head first."

Taylor swallowed once before mumbling something incoherent. Then, he lifted his hand as if to reach out before seeming to think better of it and letting it drop back to his side. Head dipped, he backed away before moving to walk around him like Monica had done earlier, twisting Diego's stomach in knots.

After a moment to collect himself, Diego took a deep breath before facing John. "What do you want? I have somewhere to be."

"Not anymore. Come with me."

The hell?

John didn't wait or look back to see if Diego followed when he started walking. A full five seconds passed with Diego's mouth hanging open and him staring after the man before his brain kicked in and his feet moved.

Neither of them spoke as they moved through the facility, where John led him into the military wing. It wasn't until they stopped in front of General Reyes's office that Diego froze as his companion entered a code into a panel before pressing his palm onto a pad and staring into a retinal scanner. The door opened, and John motioned for him to go inside. "Have a seat. Reyes should be here shortly. He tends to skip breakfast."

Good for him. That didn't mean Diego wanted to miss his meal, but he was too stunned to argue back or question why he was here.

Like everything else in the facility, the furniture was modern, but the office wasn't without a personal touch. Plaques hung on the wall, and a small display case with various medals of achievement sat prominantly on a bookcase against the wall. Replicas of swords throughout history hung behind the desk along with photographs of the crusty old man throughout his military career, including prominant photos of him shaking hands and mingling with at least two presidents.

Two chairs sat in front of the desk, and Diego claimed the one on the right while John took the left. Diego then clasped his hands together in his lap and bounced his foot, wondering what anyone could possibly want with him. Was he in trouble? He didn't recall doing anything to garner unwanted attention -- he reported to duty every morning and did his job before going back to his mundane existence inside these bleak walls.

After what felt like forever, the door opened, and the men swiveled around. In person, General Reyes was intimidating with a closed off and shrewd demanor. The man observed everything and said very little, and even then, his comments were curt. Diego couldn't wait to leave the office the one time he'd been in there to discuss his assignment with Sergeant Ackerman. And if Reyes was surprised by his company, he didn't show it as he took a seat in front of them, acknowledging them with single nod and a stare that pierced Diego's soul.

The man would make an excellent poker player if he didn't already play.

Reyes watched John with a lifted silver eyebrow for a moment before asking, "Can we trust him?"

Trust him with what?

He didn't have a chance to interject as John nodded and said, "He's good. Besides, it's Taylor's trust that matters. If my son thinks Diego is fine, then I have to support him. We don't have any other options with Recklaw gone."

Huh?

Like a kid trapped in an awkward parent/teacher conference, Diego raised his hand. When the men directed their attention to him, he said, "Uh, I'm confused. What the hell is going on?"

They exchanged a glance, holding each other's gaze for a beat of three. Finally, John turned to Diego, more exhausted than he'd ever seen him. Lines creased his forehead, and his expression was grim.

"Everything in this room is strictly confidential, but we have reason to believe you, Taylor, and Monica are in danger. We are also certain you are Benson's next target."

Diego's jaw dropped.

Ahhhhh!

I had to cut the chapter off here, but omg, we're about to see some revelations!

I've been considering Diego's arc and also trying to bring back zombies (which will eventually make an appearance). I have some big things planned as well as some thrills and chills.

Was anyone expecting this?

Thoughts on John?

Thoughts on what he plans to tell Diego?

Any other questions, comments, or concerns? Let me know in the comments and don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter. Thank you all so much for reading!