Out of harm's way

For his own integrity, not to mention the safety of himself and everyone around him, Tom Hagen had never been witness to a murder. That did not mean that Tom Hagen did not know what a single bullet could do to a man. It did not mean that he didn't know what blood looked like when it left a body. Tom Hagen was not stupid.

Because he wasn't, it hurt to lay eyes on his boss again. In his mind, the skin, that was still intact, was covered in red liquid. The bone beneath that skin was crushed; was showing through his face. The dark eyes, that were meeting his, would never see again.

It wasn't the first time he had imagined his boss murdered. He knew it was inappropriate, sick, even. But his imagination went places he didn't want to go. It had been this way for years. Tom couldn't even remember how long. It was just that his imagination had never been closer to becoming stone cold reality, and it came to him worse than ever before.

Michael Corleone took steps around the room and cast long shadows on the walls. At first sight, he walked like he walked on every other day. But Tom was so used to his way of movement that he could identify small differences in the way that he carried himself. He was shaken. And that was a big deal, because he never was. Tom shook his head slowly, without noticing it himself. Michael laid one hand on the back of the comfortable chair in front of him, as to support his own weight.

'Did they hit you?'

His boss looked at the thick rug on the floor. 'No.'
'Did you hurt yourself when you took cover?'
'No.'
It was as if a tremendous weight was suddenly removed from his chest. Tom breathed; put the files he had had in his hands on the coffee table to his right. He hardly remembered what they were about.

'I'm sorry. I should have paid closer attention to security.'
'You couldn't have seen this coming, Tom.'
'No,' Tom protested. 'No, I should have been there. I can't do much as it is now.'
Michael's hand left the chair, and he took a few more silent steps. 'We both made the same mistakes. You trusted the people who I trusted. You know just as much as I do. There is nothing we could have done.'
'Michael,' Tom said. He waited until his boss looked back at him before he went on. 'We could leave. Get out of here. Before tomorrow.'
His boss listened in silence.
'We'll put a few miles between us and them. I can drive, if there's no one else. They won't find you, and if they do, well…'
Tom stood before him, staring at the ground. He saw the expensive watch around his wrist. He had ordered it for him, last winter. He knew the brand of his suit, and where it had been tailored for him. It all fit him perfectly, but at the same time, it worried Tom constantly. Where there is money, there are jealous eyes, and greedy hands that might take it from him, strip him of all his possessions, that would not hesitate to pull the shoes off his feet to sell them to the highest bidder.

'I'll never let them get to you.'
His eyes met Michael's for a second, then he cast them down again. 'Never. I won't let them touch a hair on your head.'
Michael smiled. It was almost invisible, but Tom never failed to notice. 'I have other people for that, Tom. You don't need to drive me places or be my bodyguard. You're too good to be a bodyguard. That certainly wasn't what my father wanted for you.'
Tom took a deep breath. 'I'll never let them get to you. And that's a promise. There's nothing you can do about it.'
Michael chuckled, but didn't say anything. He laid his hands on Tom's shoulders, as he had done so many times before. But it was different from last time. Last time, his boss had never been shot at, and he had believed himself to be safe in his home. Tom felt his warmth through his clothes, and it killed him to think he had almost lost him. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around him tightly, more or less automatically. After a few seconds, the warmth was everywhere, and Tom was surrounded by proof that his blood was still inside his body, and his heart was still beating. Images of broken bones and bloodstained bedsheets were still on his mind. He pressed him closer against him. He remembered what it had done to him when he had found out that policeman had broken his jaw. He had thought Michael's face would never return to the way it had been. He had probably wanted the man dead even more than Michael had, even though nobody would have guessed. They can't touch him now, he thought. 'Please let me keep you safe.'

He wanted to hold the man he had known almost all of his life for a much longer time. It was difficult to let him go now that he had him in his arms. Especially because it had always been Michael who had taken initiative, regardless of his short height. It had been Michael who had tried to protect him, but it wouldn't be that way any longer. It wasn't right. Tom remembered how small he had been when they had both been boys. His hands moved beyond his control, and he felt the skin in his neck, just behind his ear. He would give everything he had if he could make sure that that ear would never be harmed by anything. Not by flying shards of glass, or by fire. That a knife would never cut through the skin, and that a bullet would never blow it off. It was so immensely important to him that he was careful not to hurt him when he laid his lips to Michael's ear and kissed it softly. 'Please,' he whispered, and he felt Michael shiver in his arms.
He feared that he had gone too far, where at the same time, he knew what he felt, and he knew he could never have stopped himself. But his fears were based on nothing. He felt his boss's arms around him in return as he laid his head to his shoulder and closed his eyes. The small head with its delicate features, the eyes with their dark lashes. Tom felt tears in his throat, but he swallowed them, in complete silence.

Sunday, the 9th of June, 2013 9:10 PM