CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR
MELO
The silence that follows Sly's outburst is heavy. His face buried in his hands, his shoulders are shaking, and the sound coming from him isn't a sob, it’s full on crying.
"I can't do it anymore, guys.," he chokes out, his voice cracking. "Every time I close my eyes, I see how close to death I was on this last mission. It's driving me crazy.
My first instinct is to tell him to sit up and stop crying. In our world, vulnerability is dangerous and the enemies can smell it. But this is Sly. We’ve had each others backs more times than I can count. If he says he's had enough, I have to listen to him and help him through it.
I glance at Travis and Rogue. They’re sitting right where they were sitting when I came in, with mirroring looks of discomfort and surprise. They’ve seen Sly take bullets without flinching, they've seen him charge into battle without fear — we all have — but seeing him broken like this is terrifying for us. It reminds me that we all have a breaking point.
"Travis, go to the kitchen. Put a pot of coffee on. Rogue, go get him a shirt that isn't soaked in alcohol." I say, my voice low but steady.
They move instantly, glad for a task that takes them away from the raw agony Sly is showing. I walk over to the sofa and sit on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of Sly.
"Look at me, Sly," I say.
He doesn't move.
"Sly. Fucking look at me."
He finally lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot. Might be from the alcohol, might be from the tears.
"Have you thought about this or is this something you just felt now?"
Travis walks back in, a steaming mug in his hand. He sets it down on the table and sits on the other side of Sly, leaning in.
"I've been thinking about it. I’ve been running too hard for too long, I'm exhausted. These days I'm always lost and I fight so hard to act like everything is fine. I've been succeeding but this one broke me. What I saw in that place? Hell."
Rogue returns, tossing a thick, grey hoodie onto the sofa and sitting on the arm of the sofa on the other side of Sly.
"Shit. You could have said something sooner." Rogue says.
Sly wipes his face with the back of his hand, looking between the three of us. He looks smaller than usual, he looks empty.
"What would I have said? That I can no longer sleep because every time I close my eyes, I die a thousand different painful ways? That I no longer eat because my appetite is in hell? That even though I don't sleep, I dread getting up from bed every morning? Tell me which of these options you would have preferred."
"It's fine, Sly. No one here is judging you for wanting to quit. We just want to support you through everything. That's all we'll do." Travis says.
"I feel like a coward. Like I'm running." Sly whispers.
"You're not a coward. You're tired. You've been at this life for a long time and it's fine if you decide that you no longer want it." Rogue adds.
"You’ve made enough money to live ten lifetimes. This might be your chance to spend it in this lifetime." I tell him and he cracks a smile.
He takes the cup of coffee and takes a long sip. The quiet in the house is different now. It's relaxed and calm and shows that we all support him. We sit there for a long time, just breathing.
"So," I ask, breaking the quiet. "If you aren't going for any more missions, what will you be doing? When you were a kid, before all this bullshit, what did you want to do?"
Sly stares into his mug for a while before a small, sad smile touches the corner of his mouth. The small, sad smile soon turns into a full blown smile and he chuckles.
"My old man… he used to take me to job sites," he says, his voice sounding stronger. "Before the gambling took control of him, he was a carpenter. I remember the smell of sawdust. He worked on construction sites and I remember wanting more than anything, to grow up and be just like the construction workers."
He looks up at me, almost embarrassed. "I want to dabble in construction. I want to build things with my hands."
Travis lets out a short, laugh and slaps Sly on the knee. "Sly the Builder. I can see it. You’d be the only contractor in the city who people are actually afraid to stiff on the bill."
"I can't see it. I thought for sure you'd be interested in security." Rogue says.
"And watch rich snotty assholes snort coke and fuck women? No. I want to go out like a real man. With a tetanus infection."
We all laugh at that and I relax. He might not be hundred percent right now but he'll be fine.
I nod, the plan already forming in my mind. "I know a few people you can learn from. Call me when you're ready."
He takes my hand, his grip firm and he pulls himself up. He's not out of the water yet, but he's not drowning.
"Thank you for getting rid of those women. What was I thinking bringing them here?"
"You weren't thinking. You were looking for ways to self destruct." Travis tells him.
Now that I see that he's fine. I stand up too. I turn to Travis and Rogue.
"One of you should probably stay with him tonight. Make sure he eats something solid and that he doesn't do something crazy in the middle of the night. I’m going home."
"I don't need a baby sitter. I'll be fine. Everyone can go home."
"I'll stay. My girlfriend went out of town." Travis says.
"Great. I'm your consolation prize." He says dryly.
I walk out of the house and the cool night air hits me, refreshing and sharp. Isaiah sits up and unlocks the car.
I slide into the back seat. "Let's go home."
"Yes sir." He says and starts the engine.
Things are about to get strange for Sly. Quitting is okay but the body and mind needs time to adjust to the new reality and I'm not sure he's ready for the withdrawal syndrome that will hit him hard when he goes six months without a mission. He'll be fine eventually.
We'll all be here for him.