Chapter Text
Felix Leiter squinted at a figure standing above him. He shielded his eyes from the sun, getting a clear view of the man’s face. Narrow features, a strong jaw, and close-cropped graying hair all gave the impression of a very serious white man — someone with a badge or a rank.
“Hi,” Felix said, his eyes drawn to the patches, pins, and brass buttons covering the man's black jacket.
As the school year drew to a close, the military recruiters had wormed their way into offices, job fairs, and quads. Felix did his best to avoid their stiff smiles and official-looking brochures sitting on fold-out tables.
“What’s your name, son?” the man asked, placing his foot on the curb and leaning over Felix just a touch.
Felix looked around, not quite panicking, but not liking where the conversation was headed. He was alone at the bus stop with only the hazy afternoon sky to keep him company. He’d settled on a curb just outside school grounds to wait for the city bus, glad the sun was low enough for the church steeple across the street to give him shade.
“Who are you?” Felix asked, returning his eyes to the man above him.
“I’m Sergeant Jeffery Mains.”
Felix looked around again, desperate to see the bus rounding the corner. As usual, it was late.
“You’re not in trouble, son,” the man said, his lips stretching into a practiced smile.
“Okay,” Felix said, clearing his throat and deciding to jump to the end of the conversation. “I don’t want to join the army. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” the sergeant said, smiling with his teeth. “But the army ain’t the only place to go. We’ve got the navy, the air force, the marines…”
“I have bone spurs,” Felix said, hoping the man would catch the hint and move on.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What kind?”
Felix winced. He’d never been clear on the exact definition of “bone spur.”
“I’m blind too.”
“That must be hard for you.”
“It is.”
“Any more excuses?” the sergeant asked, crossing his arms.
“Yeah. I’m a Canadian exchange student.”
“Noted. Anything else?”
“I’m a fag.”
“I did mention the navy, right?”
Felix smiled, taking another look at the recruiter.
“You must be real desperate, man.”
“Well, it just so happens I’ve been looking for a blind Canadian homosexual with bone spurs for a special mission. It must be fate.”
Glancing down the road, Felix searched for the bus again. He had no luck.
“You’ve gotta have a spiel,” he said, hoping he could just nod along to a lengthy sales pitch until the bus came.
“I do.”
“Get it over with.”
“Alright, here goes.” The man cleared his throat, tapping his gloved fingers on his arm and looking down at Felix. “It’s pretty boring around here, isn't it?”
Felix looked down at the concrete beneath him, his eyes tracing loose stones and jagged cracks. He swallowed and began gnawing on his cheek.
"Big world out there," the recruiter said, his voice almost sounding wistful. "Lots of places that aren't here."
"Why don't you go there then?"
"I will soon, but if you ever feel the urge, you can too."
The sergeant stood straight and fiddled around in his breast pocket, drawing out a small metal case.
“It’s not like you have to decide right now,” he said, popping open the case and drawing out a card. “Here.”
Felix took it, feeling the textured piece of heavyweight paper beneath the pads of his fingers.
“If you find yourself up against a wall, just call that number. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”
The sergeant nodded and moved on, leaving Felix alone again at the bus stop. He frowned as he looked at the card, glad the conversation hadn’t gone on any longer. When the bus arrived, his mind had moved on to his usual anxieties — grades, church, and the looming threat of finals.
He smiled at his mother and ignored his sister as he stepped through the peeling door of their apartment. He could smell something foul coming from the crockpot on the kitchen counter, and he sped through the room before he was offered anything.
“How was school?” his mother yelled after him.
“Boring.”
Changing out of his jeans, he flopped onto his bed. After a moment of silence, he reached over to the radio perched on his windowsill and flipped it on.
“—extend the invitation, I never knew how long you'd stay. When you hear temptation call—”
Sighing, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the textured words of the woman singing. The crackling voice on the radio took him away from himself for a few minutes — just long enough to fill him with dread when he opened his eyes to the familiar contours of his bedroom ceiling.
He meant to throw away the sergeant’s card, but he never did.