"Beauty" by LadyArmand and Mikou

Chapter 16

Michael couldn't figure out what was going on. He wanted so much to believe that Ben was right--that it was over, but he couldn't help himself. The worry genes swam too strongly in the family pool. "How do you know--?"

"I just know. I can feel it." Ben rolled onto his back and floated in the water.

"What if--?"

"There is no 'what if'. He's gone. What's it going to take to make you believe?"

"Some closing credits and a rousing rendition of 'Tubular Bells' would be a good start," Michael mumbled under his breath. "With a nice fat 'The End' sign to boot."

"What was that?" called Ben from across the pool.

"Never mind. I was talking to myself."

Ben swam over to where Michael was treading water. "You've been doing a lot of that today."

"Well, excuse me. I'm under a lot of stress in case you didn't notice all the paranormal activity around here." Michael clung to the sides of the pool and kicked at the water. The warm water wasn't having the relaxing effect that he thought it would. He felt like a loose, partially cooked noodle in a bowl of soup--all out of sorts, no signs of inner support, and rapidly melting.

"You seem tense."

"Give the man a prize. Right on the first try." He kicked himself mentally when Ben winced at the snide remark. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. You've had way too many troubles to deal with lately."

"So have you--because of me."

Michael felt a knot pull tighter across his shoulders. It was amazing how much stress a wet noodle could feel. "Are we going to start this again?"

"No." Ben swam a little closer. "I was just thinking that since my problem became your problem and you helped me solve it--"

"But I didn't do anything! I'm not even convinced...mmph!" Michael gladly let his complaints be absorbed into Ben's kiss. Their mouths met, at first softly, then with growing ardor. He never knew when he lost his grip on the side of the pool. He only knew when his hands were gliding across the slippery contours of Ben's body. The ridges of scar tissue along Ben's hip played against his fingers. Underneath, Ben's muscle moved with a smoothness belied by the outward appearance of his uneven skin.

Ben kicked at the water, bringing him closer than Michael would have thought possible. He was immersed in Ben as much as his body was immersed in the pool. Michael's head dropped back, giving access to Ben's talented mouth and tongue. Ben proceeded to lick and suck his way down Michael's neck, pausing only to suck tender flesh between his smooth teeth and worry it until he left a bright red patch. Ben's mouth moved downwards to capture Michael's nipple. He teased and licked the sensitive nub of flesh until Michael was as taut as a bowstring.

While Ben played deftly with his body, Michael's hands wandered over Ben's back and he purposefully tangled their legs together. With a slight shift, his thigh pressed against Ben's thick cock. He gripped Ben's arms for leverage and moved his thigh side to side with deliberate intent.

Ben's devouring of Michael's chest became slower and slower until his head came to rest on Michael's shoulder and he was breathing heavily. Michael stroked downwards until he came to Ben's ass. He gripped the firm cheeks and pulled himself closer.

"Michael!" Ben cried out, his arms tightening reflexively in a bear hug. Michael slipped his hand between them and under Ben's swim trunks. He stroked the thick, warm flesh until Ben was rock hard and grunting with every breath. He suffered a moment of surprise when Ben grabbed both of his hands in one of his own and pulled them over his head. Surprise gave way to intense pleasure when he felt his swim trunks being pulled off by a sure hand. The wet spandex landed with a wet thud by the poolside, followed shortly thereafter by Ben's own trunks. With no barriers between them, Ben threaded his hands into Michael's and pulled him in for a soul-searing kiss. There was no gentleness about it--nothing but tongues twisting around each other in a battle for dominance, five o'clock shadow abrading pale skin and turning it ruddy, and the groans of two men who couldn't get enough of each other.

Below the water, the battle was replicated. Michael shifted his leg more assertively and he nearly died when Ben's well-developed thigh, rubbed against his erection. The sting of erotic sensation shot straight through him, leaving him dizzy. He circled Ben's waist and rubbed himself wantonly and unashamedly against Ben. The cacophony of feelings swirled around him until they created a thundering crescendo in his head. The pleasure of release pounded through him so hard that he might have blacked out for a second. Luckily, Ben was supporting him.

They were both panting for breath and speechless about the intensity of the encounter. Michael wasn't often at a total loss for words, having been raised at the knee of a championship talker and side by side with two brothers who could use words as weapons of destruction or tools of enticement like veritable masters. But for now, all Michael could do was breathe.

~~~~~~~

Ben basked in the warmth of the fireplace while Michael knelt behind him and dried his hair. The fire would have done just as well on its own, but he enjoyed being touched. It was as if, having denied himself the pleasure of human contact for so long, his desire for the simple pleasure of skin against skin had grown exponentially. When Michael dropped the towel, Ben bit back a tisk of disappointment. He regained his sense of comfort and security when Michael pulled him back and he was essentially lying in Michael's lap, looking up at him. "Your face looks funny from this position," he said dreamily.

Michael leaned over and placed an upside down kiss on Ben's mouth. "Yours looks just right to me."

Ben looked forward, into the flames licking at the logs in the fireplace. The dancing gold and orange tongues were mesmerizing. He followed them as they bobbed and crackled and wondered how something that looked so beautiful could hurt so much when it got close. His voice was just as dreamy as before when he started to share another tale. "I didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did." He sighed and closed his eyes when Michael started stroking his face, taking away the lingering pain of past wounds. He knew he probably shouldn't bore Michael with ancient history, but the words needed to be said beyond his strength to keep them to himself.

"I remember looking out the window and trying to figure out where the fire was coming from. Stupid, right? I should have been trying to get us out."

Michael's voice was low and steady. "You were probably too injured to help yourself. That's why you couldn't move."

"Maybe," Ben said idly. "I remember getting angry that it was so hot. The flames hadn't reached the inside of the car yet. The vinyl on the seats was melting. I just had to be wearing light linen pants. The vinyl melted right through and it took them days to pick out all the pieces." He paused, wondering if now was a good time to stop, but Michael's hand rubbing in small circles over his heart urged him on. "I tried to move when the windshield broke, but I was stuck, I thought. Later on, they told me that the steering wheel had bent and pinned my leg to the seat. I couldn't feel it then. All I could feel was the heat pouring in. I wasn't even thinking about Paul anymore. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't cry for him. There wasn't time." He jumped when a one of the logs twisted and slipped, sending a flurry of sparks and smoke up the chimney flue. "It was like the windshield exploded in slow motion--like those movies when a car falls under water and the windshields starts to crack under the pressure." He lifted his hand and drew invisible lines in the air. "Or like a drunken spider got a little loose and crazy. It would have made a great picture if I'd had a camera and my arm hadn't been broken in three places."

He settled more comfortably into Michael's lap and exhaled with pleasure when Michael's gentle massage moved from his face to his neck. With his eroding tension, his story became easier to tell, the warm relaxation drawing out memories that he had suppressed or forgotten. "It caved in...the windshield that is. Then there was this popping noise, like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. I gather that it was little pieces of broken glass popping and flying around. They told me I was lucky I didn't lose an eye in all that. At the time, lucky was not a word I would have applied to myself, but they're right aren't they? I was lucky." He stared at the fire in quiet thought. "It took me a long time to accept that."

Michael skimmed his hand under the edge of Ben's terry cloth robe and splayed his fingers across Ben's chest. "I feel like the lucky one."

Ben looked up at Michael's upside down face. He reached up and cupped Michael's face. "Where did you come from I wonder?"

"Pittsburgh."

"Do they make a lot of heroes and angels in Pittsburgh?"

"You can't walk down the street without tripping over one or the other."

Ben sat up and pulled Michael to sit in his lap. "I may have to pay Pittsburgh a visit and see for myself."

Michael pulled at the tie of Ben's robe. "Good. You can go with me when I return my brother's car."

Ben felt his heart trip over those words. "You're going home?" He held Michael by the shoulders, fearing the response that might put an end to this thing they had started.

Michael leaned in and started kissing the base of Ben's throat. He pulled the robe down Ben's shoulders and began a sensual assault on Ben's exposed body. "I have to go home sometime."

Ben clenched his teeth to stop his desired retort: "No, no, no." He didn't own Michael. In the scheme of things, they had only just met. Despite whatever words might have been spoken out of sympathy or in the heat of passion, it would be unreasonable to expect Michael to change his whole life on a whim. "When do you think you're leaving?"

Michael lay back on the thick rug and pulled Ben over him. "I have no set plans. I still have to figure out what I'd use for transportation when I come back. I'd buy David's car if I had a fat bank account or a winning lottery ticket."

Ben almost collapsed with relief at Michael's words: when I come back. Only then did he realize that Michael was looking up at him, eyes blazing with desire, his nude body undulating with welcome. Ben pushed the wet tendrils of black hair away from Michael's face and kissed him. With one kiss, heat swept through him. His open robe draped over both of them.

Michael smiled. "I had a dream like this--except you were wearing a lot less." Ben moved to shrug off the robe, but Michael stopped him. "No, don't. I like it like this. It's like we're in a cocoon, just the two of us."

"What did I say in your dream?"

Michael bit his lip in thought. "You didn't say anything...I don't think. Neither did I. We were otherwise occupied." Michael arched an eyebrow flirtatiously.

Ben leaned down, careful to bear his weight on his good arm. He nuzzled Michael's neck, inhaling the faint scent of soap from the shower they had shared after their swim. "What were we doing?"

Michael's blush started on his chest and crept charmingly up his neck until his cheeks were two flags of red. "Oh, you can probably guess."

"I have a limited imagination. Indulge me."

Michael his face against Ben's chest and spoke in an embarrassed rush. "You were kissing me all over."

Ben stomach flipped pleasantly at that image. After his first taste of Michael, he was hopelessly addicted to the man's flavor. He helped himself now, starting in the region of Michael's navel. The tip of his tongue fit perfectly into the dip and the little trail of hair below brushed his lower lip and chin. He licked his way downward, stopping to run his tongue across Michael's pubic bone. Under his chest, the effect of his teasing became apparent as Michael's cock stirred to life. Ben moved away from that temptation, wanting only to prolong their foreplay. "What else did we do?" he asked between the kisses with which he was dotting Michael's stomach and thighs.

Michael shook his head restlessly. "I don't remember anything except..."

"Except what?" Ben took one of Michael's hands and sucked two of Michael's fingers deep within his mouth. Michael's pupils had dilated so that only a rim of brown was visible in his eyes. The heat of the fire, both outside and in, had created a deep flush across his snowy skin. Ben paused. "Michael?"

"Yes?" Michael's voice was husky and tremulous. He cleared his throat and asked, "What was I saying?"

"You were trying to remember how many ways I made love to you."

Michael's eyes clouded with distracted confusion. "I was?"

"Yes, you were."

"What did I tell you?"

Ben pulled Michael's hand down and around himself, "Touch me and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Michael followed Ben's lead. With moistened fingers, he explored the crease between Ben's buttocks. Ben obediently spread his legs and pressed downwards, hungering for the feeling of penetration. Michael didn't keep him waiting long. He circled Ben's puckered opening and pressed inwards, with sure movements. Sweat broke out

Michael hooked his legs around Ben's waist and pulled him closer. Ben gripped one of Michael's hair-roughened legs and propped it on his shoulder. He spared a second to kiss Michael's leg before preparing himself. With fingers moistened in his own mouth, he entered Michael's body, fingers flexing when Michael tightened around him. He pulled his fingers out and placed his erection at Michael's entrance. With a blink and a slight nod of acceptance, Ben flexed his hips and pushed his way home.

He would have liked to have given Michael a few seconds to adjust, but his instincts kicked in and he began moving in and out, the pull of Michael's body too much to resist. In the dark or with his eyes closed, he might have been able to convince himself that anyone would do, but it would have been a lie of monumental proportions. Michael's name rang in his head. Michael's musky, soapy, sweet scent surrounded him. When he opened his eyes, the caring and desire on Michael's face hit him with the speed and force of a runaway train. His muscles burned with the effort of his movement and that ache spread to the tips of his fingers and toes. Climax approached and he slowed, wanting it to last forever. When he could no longer prevent the inevitable fall, he tumbled head long into a maelstrom of pulsing sensation. It ripped through him leaving him drained of energy. He fell boneless at Michael's side, gasping for air. When he'd recovered his breath and his senses, he pulled Michael's back to his front and leisurely explored Michael's body.

Michael writhed under Ben's attentions, making breathless sounds of encouragement every so often. His own climax having taken the edge off, Ben could afford to take his time. He stroked Michael's cock slowly and, when Michael would have pushed him to go faster, he ignored the impassioned pleas, keeping his own, steady pace. Michael became a bundle of impatience and demand, moving his hips in a failed attempt to achieve the release he craved. His breathing became more harsh and his cries became whispers. Ben waited until the very last moment, when Michael's responses were fully under his control. He stopped stroking to roll Michael's balls between careful fingers. Michael cried out an agonized, "No!" though he seemed to respond just as strongly to the new direction of love play.

When Michael seemed to have calmed down, Ben started all over again, strumming his lover's body like a fine instrument until he hit that perfect note. With his free hand, he circled Michael's hole, pressing the tight ring of flesh without entering until Michael's body tightened and his hands clenched, fingers digging into Ben's thigh. His body jerked and as a stream of creamy white jetted from his cock. Ben continued to stroke Michael's softening flesh, milking the last few drops of Michael's release.

Michael curled in on himself, twitching and heaving in big breaths. Ben tried to touch him again, but Michael drew away with alacrity.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Ben hadn't been anywhere near rough with Michael, so he was at a loss to figure out the reason for this withdrawal. "Michael?"

Michael shook his head and curled up more. Eventually, he turned and lay on his back, his hands over his chest as if he was trying to hold his heart in. "A minute," he said on a breathless note. "Give me a minute."

Ben waited until Michael reached for his hand. Michael kissed Ben's knuckles and held Ben's hand against his chest. Ben curled his body around Michael's side and stared at their joined hands. Michael's pale, smooth skin was such a contrast to his own. For a moment, the scars seemed almost invisible. There was only the tanned skin of yesteryear. Underneath his palm, he could feel the steady thump of Michael's heartbeat. "They told me that I probably wouldn't be able to feel anything on the parts where the burns were worse." Until now, the only true sensation had been the muscle aches and Paul's bone chilling touch.

Michael turned to face Ben. He stroked up Ben's wrist, following the line of his arm to the elbow and continuing up to his shoulder. "Do you feel that?"

Ben nodded. "Yes. Not as much as on the other side, but yes."

"I guess that shows how much they know. Everything else seems to be working just fine."

"Fine?"

Michael grinned. "I'm sorry. I meant fantastically."

"I thought I lost you at the end."

"You didn't lose me. I was only trying to memorize how it felt before the feeling went away."

Ben pressed his hand a little harder against Michael's chest, holding him in place. "Why would you need to do that? If you forget, I'd be happy to remind you in a repeat demonstration." Beneath his joking manner, there was a layer of distress. He sought Michael's eyes. "It's not like you're going to run off and leave forever." He closed his eyes against the flash of emotion in Michael's eyes. He told himself, I imagined it. "You could stay here for as long as you want." Michael opened his mouth to speak, but Ben planted a kiss to prevent any possible rejection. Michael moaned when the kiss became prolonged. They separated to catch their breath and Ben said quickly, "You don't have to make any promises yet...except for one."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you won't disappear on me."

After careful consideration, Michael clenched Ben's hand tighter. "I promise."

Chapter 17

It had been raining all night, but Ben and Michael didn't know it until they finally emerged from the bedroom and went rummaging for food. They had spent the entire preceding afternoon and most of the night in bed, making love, talking, making love, sleeping, and making love some more. Now they lounged together on the sofa, lazing the day away as the rain came down on what should have been a dreary Monday morning.

They talked about everything. They laughed themselves hoarse when Ben told Michael about the time he and Paul had gotten themselves trapped in an elevator on their way to their own anniversary party. It turned out to be the best anniversary they'd ever had because it was just the two of them alone in an elevator for hours. Ben described in great detail the things he and Paul did to each other to pass the time.

Ben found that talking about Paul came with an ease that surprised him. It felt so natural to be in bed with Michael in his arms, talking about Paul, referring to him as if the agony of losing him were a distant memory--as if he had been years removed from Paul's death and had made his peace with it. He knew Michael was still a little skeptical about Paul really being gone; he'd thought it was a dream. But since that day in the studio there hadn't been any further incidents, no outbursts. There was actual calm in the house. There wasn't the fear of something untoward happening.

It made Ben feel good to share Paul with someone else, to have someone else see Paul the way he saw Paul, to have Paul live not only in his memory, but in the memory of someone else Ben loved. He wasn't free of Paul. He'd never be completely free of him and he didn't want to be. But he had made peace with Paul and his memory and he'd reconciled himself with his guilt concerning Paul's death...and that was in large part due to Michael.

Michael had this way of making Ben feel tranquil--a feeling he thought would never be his to call his own ever again. He thought he hadn't deserved it, didn't want it. If Paul were gone then there should be no more light in the world and Ben deserved to dwell in its dark recesses with no hope of respite from its torments. But then there was Michael, who brought the sun cascading back into the dark, damp places. Michael brought life, hope, and love back into the house and to Ben's life. Michael had stood up against the rage, guilt, and shame which had laid siege to Ben's soul, and shrouded the house and its sole, living occupant in its Edwardian myopia. Within Michael rested the heart of a thousand lions, yet there was another side of him that was surreptitious in its delicacy and the combination intoxicated Ben with its contrast.

~~~~~~~

Michael described his family life in great detail for Ben. He told Ben about his mother, Uncle Vic, and his brothers. He even spoke of his father. He was sure it would send his new lover running for the hills, but Ben only pulled him closer, kissing him deeply and tenderly while rubbing small circles in the center of Michael's back. Michael felt loved and protected in a way that didn't make him feel self-conscious or small, didn't make him feel as though he owed someone for their kindness to him. He could talk about his father without the dull thud in his chest or the struggle for breath.

As the tale of the Novotny's unfolded in all of its graphic details, Michael found himself laughing almost the entire way through it--not that it was even remotely funny at the time, but now, listening to himself retell it and watching as Ben took it all in, it was funny as hell. Even the deception of his mother and the deathbed confession of his father through those damned letter took on a whole new connotation because if none of it had happened, he would never have met and fallen in love with Ben. It was almost as if it was meant to be--not that he believed in that kind of shit, but the coincidence had been astounding. It was as if the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had seen two wounded and desperate people, each punishing themselves for a variety of reasons, and had decided to take pity on them. It had placed them in close proximity to one another and allowed nature to take it course.

~~~~~~~

It was a perfect day to spend in bed, listening to the rain falling--sometimes softly, at other times in torrents. The bedroom was heated by the two naked bodies intertwined on the bed: their skin glistened in the glow of the fireplace, just like in Michael's dream; their mouths traversed each other's bodies as they retraced familiar territory; their hands moved slowly over their sweat-slicked skin; their cocks danced an excruciatingly slow tango with each other as they lay pressed together. The air was filled with the sometimes muffled, but often times loud sounds of Michael and Ben's love making as they created new and fantastic ways to please each other.

Ben found Michael to be amazingly limber and capable of the most astounding things: the deep arch of his back as he positioned himself to take more of Ben's cock inside of him--so deeply Ben thought, at times, that he would completely dissolve into Michael; the way Michael ran his fingers along Ben's spine, making the hairs all over his body stand on end; or the way Michael took Ben into his mouth, like he was devouring him whole. Ben was lulled and rocked simultaneously as their bodies thundered and quaked under the massive onslaught of their orgasms.

It had been a perfect day to stay in bed and explore each other's bodies. They could have stayed there all day, and on into the next night. They had wanted to, but their stomachs had other ideas. They'd worked up a murderous appetites that could not be ignored any longer, so finally they got out of bed on unsteady legs and went in search of something to eat. They sat naked on the kitchen floor a la "9? Weeks," feeding each other and then taking it to the next level by eating off each other--licking, sucking, biting, laughing and teasing each other--playfully adoring one another as they drank and ate their fill.

Once they were content, they headed back to the bedroom but could only make it to the living room sofa before desire took control and they found themselves making love again with Michael on all fours and Ben pressing into him from behind. Ben's hands were on either side of Michael's hips guiding him. His thighs and balls slapped Michael's ass, causing Ben to moan with delight. Ben leaned forward and licked up and down Michael's spine and blew on the wet trail, causing Michael to shiver and the already tight walls of his ass to clutch Ben even tighter. Ben's breath caught in his throat and he drove himself deep into Michael. He reached around and took hold of Michael's throbbing, hard cock and started stroking slowly.

Michael raised himself until he was sitting on Ben's cock, impaling himself as deeply as he could. He rested his head on Ben's shoulder as Ben lavished kisses on his neck and face. With his other hand, Ben reached up and started pinching and twisting Michael's achingly hard nipples. It only took a few moments more for both men to cum together. It was so strong that they held on tightly to one another so as not to fly apart from the force of it.

They collapsed together, exhausted. Even though they wanted to move, their legs refused to function. They dozed but found it impossible to sleep deeply because of the constant need to touch and to be touched, to kiss and be kissed. They needed to feel one another, to be connected in a way that was unfamiliar to either of them and yet somehow missed.

Ben, who had been reluctant to show his body to Michael, was now reluctant to put clothes on. He found he wanted, needed to have Michael see him, to have Michael touch him, to have Michael tell him he was beautiful. Michael had told him he loved to watch his body move. They hadn't been dressed all weekend. As a matter of fact, they used any and every excuse they could find to remove their clothes.

Ben couldn't remember a time when he'd felt this free--like there was truly nothing he couldn't do, nothing he couldn't bear as long as Michael was there with him. This is what scared him now that Michael was going home. Michael was going to face his family to deal with things that hadn't been dealt with for years. Michael was going to leave him here in this house. For the first time in a long time, Ben was actually going to be totally alone here and he didn't know if he could stand that.

Michael was lying, wrapped in Ben's arms. His head rested lazily on Ben's chest, as the steady breathing beneath him lulled him to sleep. He cleared his throat and started with hesitation. "I'll be back in a few days."

Ben shifted a little behind Michael. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Michael turned so that he could see Ben's face. "I'm not."

"Look, Michael--" Ben started before Michael quieted him by placing a finger on his lips.

"I'm coming back and nothing and no one is going to stop me."

"Baby, I know how family can pull at you."

"You're part of that family now...a part I can't--I won't live without. Why don't you come with me?" Michael asked before placing a sweet kiss on Ben's cheek.

Ben smiled, exhilarated by the invitation and giving it serious consideration before answering. "You need to deal with them on your own. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Michael asked playfully.

"I promise."

"You promise to be here and I promise to be back. See how easy that was?"

"Watching you go isn't going to be easy."

Michael eyes misted over a little before he spoke. "Leaving you isn't going to be easy for me either, but it's only for a little while. I wouldn't do it if it weren't necessary."

"I know, but I don't have to like it," Ben said, pulling Michael closer to him.

"I don't like it either, but once it's done, I'm yours completely, without the sword of my family hanging over our heads."

~~~~~~~

Brian drove in silence while replaying the conversation with Michael in his head. He felt differentl this morning--not exactly happy, but not as dark as he usually felt--like there was something to actually look forward to: the proverbial light at the end of the goddamn tunnel sort of thing. The mere thought of it almost made him burst out laughing. Had he been alone, he might have. As it was, it took all of his will not to so that his mother wouldn't think she'd climbed into a moving vehicle with a madman.

There had been times over the years when the only person he could bear to look at, let alone talk to, had been Mikey. Brian had thought it was because Michael didn't judge him or try and get him to change his wicked ways. He thought it was because he could get Michael to do mostly anything he wanted him to do. But hearing Michael say he was coming home soon let Brian know that none of this was true and yet somehow all of it was true.

It was Michael himself, his very presence, that brought about the calmness that stilled Brian's conflicting emotions and quieted his ever-warring demons. It was the way Michael looked at him, the way he listened to Brian. Michael listened with an attentiveness that was eerie sometimes, because it meant that sometimes Brian had to be careful of what he said. But he found this wasn't a bad thing. It meant he couldn't just run off at the mouth knowing that the other person was only half listening to him rant and rave. Michael actually listened and absorbed his tantrums. Michael absorbed his anguish, at times not even knowing he was doing it. He took it all in and never held it over Brian's head, never made him feel like there was another shoe waiting to be dropped.

Brian had spoken to Michael the night before. Hearing his brother's voice sent unfamiliar shivers up and down Brian's spine. For the first time in years, perhaps ever, Brian heard lightness in his brother's voice. It was almost as if Brian had never heard his Michael speak before. Several times during the conversation, he had to check himself, to keep himself from asking if it really were indeed his brother. Then Michael would say something, something that only he'd say and Brian knew it was his Mikey.

~~~~~~~

Brian's heart had leapt at the news of Mikey's impending return--not that he'd ever let on. It was only then that he realized just how much he missed Michael, how much Michael's being within shouting distance made up for so much shit he had to deal with during the course of his day.

As they had gotten older, Brian had come to appreciate Michael's silent strength. He'd also come to rely on the caretaker in his older brother. When he got drunk, Brian would always find his way to Michael even when he couldn't remember anything else, including his own name. He'd pour himself into a cab and blurt out Michael's address. He'd stumble to Michael's apartment building and somehow get up the stairs to Michael's apartment door. No matter how late it was or who Michael was with, he'd let Brian in and take care of him. If Michael had company, he'd undress Brian and lay him out in the small, extra bedroom in the apartment. If Michael were alone then he'd put Brian in bed with him. These were the times Brian remembered most and appreciated the best, simply because they reminded him of when they were kids and he'd go to Michael when he was scared.

Several times during this separation, he had somehow ended up in front of Michael's apartment building after getting off work. He'd just sit there in his jeep and stare up at the dark windows for about fifteen, twenty minutes, then he'd drive away, somehow feeling better, feeling closer to Michael in a way he couldn't describe, in a way he didn't want to describe, in a way that no one save him and Michael understood but could never put into words. Brian knew if they could describe it, it would go away, and so it was better to leave it as it was.

He had always known how Michael felt about him, had always known that their relationship was vastly different than any other relationship he had with anyone. Michael had a way of saying things that made Brian think about what he was doing in an entirely different light. Maybe it was because Michael was the only person he knew who didn't preach to him about his moral shortcomings.

Sitting in the car with his mother now reminded him of what Michael would do. Michael would know the right thing to do, the right thing to say, like he did when they found out their father died, when all of this shit started. Brian knew what he wanted to say, had mapped it out in his head, but wasn't sure where to begin now that he was sitting here with his mother. He knew what to say, just not how to say it. Talking about feelings was Michael's department.

Brian didn't like being unsure of himself because it made him nervous. However, there were several things that had come up lately that made him nervous: the act of him and David spending time together for more than five minutes and actually being rather civil to each other; walking out of his mother's house after she dropped another little bomb shell on them and being unsure if he'd ever be back.

After he'd hung up the phone with Michael, Brian decided to go see his mother the next morning. He'd put to rest at least one demon before his brother got home.

Debbie cleared her throat before talking to her son. "So you're not pissed anymore?"

Brian glanced over at her while choosing his words carefully. "I wasn't really pissed. I was more disappointed...and worried about Michael."

Glancing out the window Debbie replied, "You sure give one hell of an imitation of being pissed."

"I told you I was worried about Michael." Brian looked in the side view mirror before changing lanes.

"And you think I'm not?" Debbie snapped defensively.

"I know you are. But you created a situation here, Ma. You really don't get to play the injured party."

"You came by today to give me shit?"

Brian looked at his mother for a minute before replying. "I came over because my father isn't worth all the shit that's coming down around our heads."

Debbie turned her head and looked out the window, trying to hide her tears. This was as close to an apology as Brian could get. She felt his hand cover hers and the tears that had been threatening to fall now poured from her eyes in oceanic waves.

~~~~~~~

David had been working out for about an hour when the door bell started ringing. He thought seriously about not answering, but something inside him told him to.

When he got to the door and opened, it his mouth nearly hit the floor. "Michael?"

Michael looked at his brother and took a deep breath. "Hey, big brother--" was all he got out before he was engulfed in David's sweaty embrace.

"Come in, come in," David stuttered excitedly.

"Are you sure?"

David smiled and kissed his brother on the cheek. "Get your ass in here."

Walking inside, Michael felt relief wash over him. "How have you been?"

David walked a short distance behind his little brother, happier than he'd been in along time. "You know me."

"Yeah, that's why I asked."

"I'm fine. You want something to drink? "

"No, I...Can we just sit and talk a minute?" Michael asked, heading for the couch.

David took a seat beside his brother, unwilling to let Michael out of his sight for fear his he'd vanish into thin air. "We can do anything you want. You look great."

"Thanks. I feel great."

"So, whatever you were doing helped you?"

"Yeah, I exorcised some ghosts...and came to some realizations about Dad, you and myself."

"Sounds heavy. You sure you don't want a drink first?"

"I'm sure. I...I..."

"Take your time."

"This is harder than I thought. I'm sorry."

"I don't care about the car."

"I'm not talking about the car. I'm talking about everything else. I've been a first-rate ass. I was missing something that was never really there--holding onto memories instead of appreciating what was right in front of me. For a long time I was so pissed at you for stepping in and taking Dad's place. Being gone this time made me realize I wasn't pissed at you, but at him because he never could have done what you did. He never was the man you are. He ran when things got a little hard for him. Even when everyone would have understood you wanting to be on your own, when you were offered the partnership in Detroit, you stayed. I'm sorry I gave you so much shit for it. I know I can't ever make up for how I acted. I know I can't ever give back to you what you had to give up for Ma, Brian, and me, but I'm sorry and I love you for it..." Michael couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

David reached over and embraced his brother. "Shh, Michael. It's all right. It's all right. I never wanted you to thank me. I only wanted you be happy. You have nothing to be sorry about. Not now, not ever. You're my little brother. There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you. There's nothing I wouldn't gladly give up for you--nothing...As long as you're happy and safe, I'm okay with what I did."

Chapter 18

"Argh!" said Michael when his head hit the keyboard with a dull thud. When something tapped his shoulder, he jumped and succeeded in whacking his forehead on the edge of the laptop screen and banging his knee on the table leg in an ironically coordinated demonstration of startled clumsiness.

"Sorry, Michael. I was trying to catch your attention, but you seemed so far away. How's it coming along?" Vic looked over his nephew's shoulder at the last paragraph on the screen. "Not so good, I see."

"It could be better." Michael stretched his knee, rubbed at his forehead with one hand, and used the other hand to click a key and save what he had been typing--minus the last two lines. This interruption was a blessing. He'd thought to write something down to kill time while he waited for his mother to come home, but after every few paragraphs his mind would hit a wall--a big, brick one with slippery sides and no alternate route in sight. The ideas born in his imagination begged to be made real, but once he started, they seemed to retreat into some far away hiding place. Instead of story ideas, thoughts of his mother, Ben, and his whole life had been swirling in his head and ruining his tenuous concentration. "Is she coming home soon?"

Vic sat nearby and took his time answering. "She knows that you're here," he said as if that answered all. Unfortunately it did.

"Of course she knows. I called to tell her that I would be waiting for her after work."

"She decided to go out to with one of her friends--dinner and a movie, I believe."

Michael processed the tiny stab of pain in his heart. He knew that his mother had been avoiding him, but this latest rejection finally got to him.

"Payback's a bitch, ain't it?" Vic's joke was told without a trace of a smile.

"Yes, Uncle Vic it is." Michael knew that he'd needed to get away, but doing it in such a melodramatic manner had probably made a bad situation worse. "I just...needed to go, you know? It was more about me than about her."

Vic nodded sagely. "Charles used to be the same way."

"I'm not my father," Michael said, but his protest sounded hollow to his own ears. He'd never thought he was his father, no matter how much he looked like Charles Novotny--not in the way Uncle Vic was suggesting. If anything, Brian was the one most likely to think of himself and fuck anyone else. He, Michael, had always been the one to go along with everyone else. It had become his whole way of living, of coping. When he needed another way, one step off his usual path had disrupted the delicate balance of what everyone expected from him. He hadn't cared much until he appreciated the hurt that he'd left behind. Luckily, Brian and David had been relatively easy. Their mother, despite appearances to the contrary was the farthest thing from easy. Michael snapped out of his daydream when Vic spoke.

"Did you find what you were looking for while you were gone?"

"I feel like I can deal with things better now. That was the most important thing."

"I heard that something else important happened...or should I say someone else?"

Michael grinned ruefully. "And Brian swears he never gossips.

"Don't be upset with him. He told me because I harassed him, since you didn't deign to talk to me yourself," said Vic pointedly.

Michael had the grace to look away with a hint of embarrassment. "I'm not upset. I think that part of me was worried that I might jinx it by telling too many people."

"The real thing?"

"If it's not, it's the closest I've ever been."

"Good. You could use something of your own."

Something of his own? It had a nice ring to it. Michael closed his eyes and was immediately assailed by visions of Ben's face before they had parted. The longing glances, heartfelt embraces, and the words left unsaid had bordered on being unbearable, given the knowledge that it was all that they would have to tide them over for several days. It wasn't nearly enough although, when he was alone, Michael could imagine that he could feel Ben somewhere out there.

"It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that."

"It's been a while since I've had a reason."

"Then, it was worth it?"

Michael nodded. "It was."

Vic stood up with finality. "Then tell your mother that. She only wants the best for you."

"How am I going to tell her if she keeps avoiding me?"

Vic shook his head. "Come on. You've got Grassi blood running through those veins. We never have a problem getting in someone's face when the occasion calls for it. Sometimes we don't even need an occasion."

Michael laughed...perhaps for the first time since he'd come home. "All right, Uncle Vic. I can take a hint."

"Good. The rest of us can talk to her until we're blue in the face, but it's you two who need to sit down and have it out. Come help me. I'm about to make a spinach quiche for dinner and I need someone to taste it."

Michael made a moue of disgust. "I hate spinach."

"Nonsense. You're going to need all the strength you can get."

~~~~~~~

Debbie watched Michael from across the room. She'd avoided him last night and now he had shown up at the restaurant as if nothing had happened. He'd been here for half an hour, happily greeting the other staff who seemed just as happy to see him. Many of the regular customers called him over and engaged him in animated conversations. He seemed better than he had in quite some time. It was a startling contrast to his previous demeanor. Her son had never been depressed, but he had seemed to float through life without much direction and without much joy in the living. She kept asking herself why she couldn't just be happy for his newfound peace and talk to her son. A customer caught her attention and she stored away those thoughts for later.

~~~~~~~

Michael introduced himself to the new busboy. The restaurant had been busier than usual and it had been easy to miss the teen who'd been working like a fiend. Things had died down and most of the other staff had already left for the night. "Hi. I'm Michael. How long have you been working here?"

The busboy looked at Michael in confusion. "Uh, two weeks?"

"And you are...?"

The boy reddened. "Uh. My name is Justin. Look, I don't want to get into trouble. Mrs. Novotny might get upset if I don't clean up this table right now."

"Don't worry. I'm friends with the management. Why don't you take off? I'll take care of it."

"Oh no! I couldn't do that."

"Don't worry about it."

Sam ducked his head, letting his blonde bangs cover his face. "Actually, I really need the money and I can't afford to lose this job."

"You're not going to lose this job."

Sam looked up with wide eyes. "The owner just fired someone for breaking a dish the other night--didn't even let him finish his shift. I don't want to test Mrs. Novotny's patience. There aren't many jobs around these days."

"The owner is my mother. I'll make sure that she knows that I sent you home...and you'll still be paid for your full shift."

Sam's face brightened with happiness. "Thanks! I was supposed to meet my girlfriend, Daphne. She'll be glad that we have a little more time."

"No problem, Sam."

Michael took Sam's apron and bucket of dirty dishes. He was puzzled about the boss that Sam feared. To give credit to his mother, she had always had a knack for bringing the staff together into one happy family. Anger and snap decisions had never been her style. While he'd been greeting everyone, he had kept an eye on her. She had changed and it went beyond avoiding him. The lightness in her step was gone as was her usual cheer and vivacity. The unsmiling impostor who remained barely shared a resemblance to the real Debbie Novotny. Talking to her might be more difficult than he had imagined.

After Michael had cleaned up the last table and unloaded the last dishwasher load, he went in search of his mother with two cups of tea in hand. He found her sitting at a corner table, head in hand, nodding off. By now, they were the only two people left in the restaurant. He walked to her side and said softly, "Mom?"

Debbie started and looked up. Fatigue ringed her eyes and made her lids droop and her mouth draw down. "What is it?"

Michael offered her one of the cups of tea and sat across from her. "I was hoping you'd talk to me."

Debbie pinched her lips, emphasizing the creases of tension that bracketed her mouth. "Why bother? You didn't want to hear anything I had to say before. I'm not sure that I don't feel the same about you now."

Michael flinched at the words, but didn't retreat. "I know I deserved that."

"Damn straight you did."

"But I found out that sometimes when you care about someone, you should take the time to let them know because none of us have forever. I don't want to ever let you think that I don't love you, because I do."

Debbie brought rubbed at her temples as if the motion would wipe away the pain etched on her face. "This has been hell, you know."

"Yes, I do."

"I knew that someday I'd have to deal with it, but I didn't expect things to happen the way they did."

"None of us did. That's the funny thing about life. Just when you have it all figured out, someone changes all the rules. If we don't work as a team, we all lose."

Debbie laughed through the tears that pooled in her eyes. "Since when did you start memorizing fortune cookies?"

Michael reached out and took his mother's hand in his own. "I've had a lot of time to think and realize what was important."

"And?"

"And, as much as I miss him, the memory of my father and all that he could have been to me can never overshadow what you mean to me now--what you were to all of us."

Debbie let out a choked sound. "I thought you'd never speak to me again...that you'd hate me for taking your father away from you."

"I was angry. I admit that. I wasn't ready to hear excuses or explanations or reasons. My father warned me in his letter not to be angry with you, but I didn't listen because I needed to blame someone and he wasn't here. You were. You've always been..." He smiled a little. "Even when I didn't want you to be."

Debbie snorted. "You little asshole."

Michael heart lifted when his mother started sounding a little more like herself. "I realized something else while I was thinking about all this."

"What?"

"I...I met someone who lost his partner not too long ago. I want to tell you about him later. Seeing him and how he suffered and was haunted by the person he lost, made me think of you. All these years, you've never talked much about Dad leaving other than how it affected us. I was so busy...we were all so busy thinking about ourselves that we forgot."

"Forgot what, honey?"

"We forgot about you. You always seemed so strong. I knew you were angry, but it never occurred to me how much it must have hurt when he left...and when he died. I should have asked you this a long time ago...Do you still miss Dad?"

Debbie gripped Michael's hand more tightly and said in a rough whisper. "You don't know how much."

~~~~~~~

Vic paid little attention to his surroundings as he hurried to the restaurant. It had to have been hours since it had closed, but his sister hadn't come home yet. They had made plans to go out for drinks earlier on and it wasn't like her to ditch without calling. Various possibilities for her absence tripped through his mind, each one worse than the last. His worry abated when he saw that the lights were still on. The pool of light was too far from the front window to reveal the identity of whoever she was talking to, but she seemed okay. He went around back and let himself in. He made his way in the dark and pushed the door into the front room. The two occupants failed to notice him and continued their conversation. Up closer, he recognized Michael's figure seated across from his mother's. They were laughing and talking.

"Do you remember that time he tried to help us build that fort in the backyard? What a mess!"

"Your father was never good with a hammer and nails, God bless him. I don't know how many days I spent tearing down what you guys did the night before and rebuilding it while you were at school and Charles was at work."

"You did that?" said Michael with shock. "I always wondered why it looked so much better the next day! Brian told us that someone was rebuilding it, but David and I didn't believe him. If you put so much work into it, why did you ask Dad to tear it down?"

"Stupid, motherly fears. After it was done, I was always afraid that one of you boys would fall out and break his arm. I hated the thought that I could make something that might hurt you."

"We would have climbed the tree anyway. That's why Dad suggested the fort in the first place--so we'd have somewhere to sit once we got up there."

"I know. I don't think I really would have made him tear it down. I knew he loved it as much as you boys did. Besides, he always kept an eye on you while you were up there. He loved you boys a lot."

"He loved you too."

"You don't have to say that to make me feel better, Michael. I came to terms with your father a long time ago."

Michael leaned forward. "I don't think you have--at least not completely. He did love you. It's not your fault that he didn't stay. It's a lot easier to run away than it is to stick around and face things."

"It's okay. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. I don't know what Dad wrote to you, but it's not your fault and I want you to know that I know. The truth is, if he really wanted to, he wouldn't have needed your permission to come back and see us. If he had really wanted to or been able to, you wouldn't have been able to stop him. If--" Michael stopped and took a deep breath. "No one can really understand what was going on with Dad except Dad himself. That's okay. I still have the good memories of him and that will have to do."

Debbie sniffed loudly and started searching her pockets. "Why do I never have a freaking handkerchief when I need one?"

"Mom."

"What Michael?" asked Debbie, yanking a scrap of white linen out of her pocket.

"Those memories are nice, but reality was much better. Having you stick around and look out for us...I wouldn't trade that...not for anything."

From his vantage point, Vic smiled. Mother and son both stood and gave each other clumsy hugs. Debbie's arms seemed a bit tight and after a minute, Michael started waving his arms and making squeaking noises. Before Vic had to step in and pry them apart, she let go and stepped back. She patted Michael firmly on the cheek and said something in a low voice that made them both laugh.

"Finally," Vic whispered to himself. All the refereeing he'd been doing lately had begun to wear on him. Maybe things could finally get back to normal. He let the door close quietly and left them to their own devices.

~~~~~~~

Michael tossed and turned in bed. It had never felt so empty before. He almost wished for one of Brian's drunken visits just so he wouldn't be alone. For the past couple of days, he had been hanging out with some of his friends. Earlier tonight, after Michael had gotten off work, they had gone out to drink and play pool while catching up on the last few weeks. Ordinarily, a trip to the clubs for dancing and other forms of stress relief would have been next on the agenda. Michael had gone so far as to stand in line at Babylon. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, the urge to leave had hit him strongly. Beautiful as the hordes of guys were, there seemed to be no point to it. Even the hottest stud in tight black leather shorts, black boots, and nothing else had failed to excite.

Well, that might be an exaggeration, thought Michael. He wasn't immune--just not as interested. He kept wishing that Ben were there. They had never danced, but Michael would have bet that being wrapped in Ben's broad, muscular arms would be heaven.

At the club, he'd danced with a few people, had a few drinks, and had finally conceded that his mind was in a totally different place than the rest of him. He bid his friends goodbye and took a cab home.

Two hours after hitting the sack and he still couldn't sleep. The hapless pillow had surrendered its will to his fist. Punching the bag of down and scrunching into a comfortable shape hadn't done a thing to tame his restlessness. He gave up and stared sightlessly into the dark. His hand crept up to his neck and fingered the spot on the left, just over his pulse. If he focused, he could still tell where the hickey had been. When he had run to Ben's guest house to pack his bag, he'd passed a mirror and had been simultaneously embarrassed and pleased to see the bright red mark on his neck. Only a turtle neck would cover the darned thing up, but he didn't mind carrying physical evidence of Ben's touch on his body. It made him feel like a kid again but it also made him feel desired. He had been disappointed when it had faded because it was his only tangible reminder.

Ben. How was it possible to miss someone so much when they'd known each other for so short a time? He had probably driven everyone crazy talking about the new love in his life. He could see it in their amused smiles when he'd been going on too long about it. They indulged him and he was glad because he wasn't sure that he could stop--not until the last couple of days.

Now, it made it worse to talk about Ben. Michael had been busy tidying up his life so that he could go back. His apartment was available for sublet. Any belongings that he wanted were packed up. David had tried to give him the car, but Michael would have none of it. With some of the money he had put away, he'd purchased a used economy car. It was no stunner, but Ben had a garage and it could always be hidden there.

Everything had been set for him to leave when an unforeseeable delay had occurred. Michael flipped over in the bed for the hundredth time that night and cursed the fates that had let two of the best waiters choose this week to run off together. Everyone at the restaurant knew that Bridget and Gabriel were smitten. It was common knowledge that the two would likely get married and have a few dozen babies together.

No one had expected that they would leave town in the middle of the week, with farewell notes that said little more than: "We're off to Paradise. Nice to know you."

According to one of the waiters who was close friends with Bridget, "paradise" was a small town in Las Vegas where a wedding chapel, an economy apartment, and new jobs in a nearby casino awaited the happy couple. Why they had decided to do it as a surprise was anyone's guess. After Debbie regaled Michael and her brother with the story, Vic had commented acerbically that leaving town at the drop of a hat seemed to be a city-wide epidemic. Michael had no defense to that, so he had said nothing.

All that should have been a semi-interesting anecdote except that it was the reason he was still here, alone in bed, instead of back with Ben. He would have called...if Ben had a phone. Before Michael had left, he had made his lover promise to get the phones turned on. He had received no messages or calls from Ben so he assumed it still wasn't done. Just a few more days, he chanted to himself. Just a few more days and the replacements would be starting and he could leave without guilt.

~~~~~~~

Until Michael had gone, Ben had forgotten just how many hours there were in the day. How he used to fill them, before Michael, bewildered him because the hours stretched before him like a vast wasteland.

'Before Michael' was a phrase that had popped up more than once in the last few days. It had taken on the importance of a geological age: the Stone Age, the Bronze Age, Before Michael, After Michael. Even when Ben told himself he was acting crazier than he had before, when he should have been putting it all into perspective, he was helpless to stop the dizzying idea that he'd found true happiness.

The days slipped by and he counted them, awaiting Michael's return. To occupy himself, he decided to restore the house to it former glory. He'd quickly realized that it was too big a job for him, so he'd hired cleaners to clean and polish everything from the rafters to the cellar. Having strangers around him hadn't been as big of an ordeal as he'd thought. Granted there were one or two whispers. He was sure that they had heard of the hideously disfigured professor who had become a veritable hermit after a fiery car crash of epic proportions. Ben was happy to be able to say to himself that the truth was far less exciting than the stories and that their few whispers couldn't touch the sphere of happiness that enveloped him.

After a week had gone by, Ben began to worry. The phone company would be turning on the phones within the next day and then he would be able to call. He had been chagrined to realized that he'd put off that task when it should have been first. He might have called Michael while he was using his neighbor's phone, but he wanted to be alone when he talked to Michael. What he was feeling was too fresh to be made public, so he waited until he could have talk in the privacy of his own house.

There had been a delay because the storm of a few weeks ago had left some previously undetected damage to the outside lines. One more day and he would be able to hear Michael's voice and reassure himself that it had all been real.

Meanwhile, he roamed the house, looking for something with which to occupy his mind. When television and the radio failed to do the trick, he wandered to the library for something to read.

Ben rolled the ladder into a place. Of course the book he was seeking would have to be on the top shelf. He tested his weight on the first rung. When it seemed secure, he carefully ascended to the top. He located the book and reached for it. Unfortunately, it was just beyond his fingertips. A glance at the floor below showed it to be miles away. To climb all the way down, roll the ladder over all of five inches and to climb again seemed like such a waste of time. He reached again. He balanced precariously and was able to touch the spine. He had just coaxed the book out of its place, firmly wedged between its neighbors, when his foot slipped and the world rushed by and ended with a thud.

The house was completely quiet, now. Dark shadows crept across the room as sunlight faded below the horizon. The unconscious man was as still as stone except for a brief rustling of his hair in a breeze that came from nowhere.

~~~~~~~

Michael sat up sharply when his cell phone disturbed his hard won sleep. He scrambled out of the bed and stumbled to where the phone beeped noisily and flipped it open.

"Hello. Hello?"

There was no answer except for the crackle of static.

Michael shook the phone as if doing so would clear the connection. "Hello?"

The call disconnected abruptly. Michael stared at the phone. The caller's number was unidentified, but somehow he knew that it was Ben...and that it wasn't good. There was no sense to it--no earthly reason to accept those feelings except that they were there and would not be denied. A cold feeling froze him from the inside and sent him into flurried action. If he could get his hands to stop shaking, he could call his mother from the road, but he had to leave and he had to leave now.

Chapter 19

Now is the time for all ghost stories to end, for the dead to return to their graves, for the dreamers to awaken, and for the rest to get on with the work a day business of living.

My days are past, my purposes
are broken off, even the thoughts
of my heart.

They change the night into day:
the light is short because of darkness

If I wait, the grave is mine house:
I have made my bed in the darkness.

I have said to corruption, Thou
art my father: to the worm, Thou art
my mother, and my sister.

And where is now my hope? as for
my hope, who shall see it?

They shall go down to the bars
of the pit, when our rest together
is in the dust

Job 17: 11-16

~~~~~~~

Sometimes a dream is just a dream. Sometimes it's a premonition. Sometimes it's misdirection. Sometimes it's a paradox. Sometimes it's an ending. Sometimes a beginning. And sometime, on those rarest of occasions, it's a way to say goodbye and set the soul free. The trick is recognizing that occasion when it arises--to differentiate what you want to happen, from what is actually happening.

~~~~~~~

Ben felt himself being lifted and cradled in someone's arms; it was calming, soothing, and familiar. He wanted to call out to Michael, to reassure his lover that he was all right, but the words were thick as molasses in his throat. His head ached and he couldn't move, but somehow he could feel himself being touched. He could hear the wind entering the room, swirling around a little and then making its exit. He could smell the dampness of the air as it hit his face. He wished he could see Michael, could return the touch, but then suddenly he knew, with a certainty that made his heart thunder in fear, that he wasn't being held by Michael. He was being held by Paul.

Had Michael been right? Had Paul waited for an opportunity to present itself so that he could attack? Had Paul waited for Michael to leave? Had he lain in wait for Ben? Had Paul just been biding his time? Well, really, what else was there for him to do? Paul had all the time in the world. Ben's mind raced, as he tried to move his wooden limbs, but escape wasn't possible. He was alone, he was immobile, and Michael was miles away.

Just as this realization sunk in, Ben heard Paul whisper softly to him, "It's all right, baby. I'm here."

Ben's blood ran so cold he felt it freezing in his veins. He wasn't at all that sure he wasn't dead or close to it, but if he were dead, why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he see Paul?

Then Ben heard a voice. It came from a place so distant in him it took him a moment to recognize the voice as his. "I thought you left." His voice sounded stale, flat, and small--not quite human.

"Did you think it was that easy? That I'd disappear just like that? Silly boy."

"I was hoping."

Paul rocked Ben slowly back and forth and considered carefully before continuing. "I never left. I just stopped being seen, heard, felt."

"Why?" This time Ben's own voice actually started sounding more familiar to him.

"I wanted to watch." Paul's voice faded a little. "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe to say goodbye. Maybe I'm stuck here. Or maybe I'm here to make sure." Paul's voice quivered a little as if it were filled with tears.

"Make sure of what?" Ben asked, his voice finally taking on its normal tone.

Paul stopped rocking for a second, pondered, and then started rocking again. "That you'll be all right now. That I'm not exactly the past, but not entirely the present either. And I sure as hell don't want to be the future, not like this."

Ben's voice grew stronger with each passing second, as his anger and fear rose in him completing for dominance. "That doesn't make sense."

Paul put his mouth close to Ben's ear before speaking again. "Think about it for a minute and it will."

Ben shivered as Paul's icy cold breath hit the side of his face. "My head hurts. I can't. What're you talking about?"

"It's not that you can't. You don't want to," Paul whispered against Ben's ear once more.

"Fine I don't want to," Ben replied, anger winning for the time being.

"You have to, Benny. If you don't, we can't get started, and if we don't finish before he comes then I very well may be stuck here forever.

Ben suddenly shivered violently. "Where is Michael? What have you done?"

"Don't worry. I haven't touched a hair on his pretty little head. He'll be here soon. I made sure of that."

"You keep saying he. He has a name."

"I know. Pardon me if it stings a little to say it, to really acknowledge it."

Ben felt remorseful; Paul had said he'd been watching since the studio incident. "I wasn't thinking. It had to have been hard watching me with Michael."

"Not as hard as being dead. But yeah, it hurts like hell. It's hard watching in silence as you move on with him...with Michael." Paul stopped rocking.

"So what was that before in the studio?" Ben asked stiffly.

"What you needed hear at the time."

"And this?"

"This is about what I need."

"What do you need?" Ben asked cautiously.

"For you to acknowledge and accept it."

"Acknowledge and accept what?"

"My death. Your life without me."

"I have."

"No, you've wallowed in it. You've made excuses for it. You let it nearly drive you crazy. You've even convinced yourself that you've come to terms with it, but I know you, Benny and you haven't, not by a fucking long shot." Paul cradled Ben closer to him and started rocking again.

"Shut up," Ben whispered through clenched teeth.

"You never did like being confronted with shit you already know." Paul's voice was soft almost lilting.

"That's not true," Ben protested.

"Yeah, it is. Always has been. Sometimes you live in a sort of self-righteous denial of certain things. You can't afford to this time, baby."

"Maybe I'm not ready to let you go."

"If you weren't ready, you'd have never allowed yourself to love him. You'd never have indulged in his love for you."

"What you do want from me?"

"For you to go to my grave. Until you do, you'll never be free and neither will I...and I'm so fucking tired of this shit," Paul said, sounding weary.

"I can't. I won't."

"How many times have I told you, Benny? There's no difference between can't and won't. Both are refusals. You can and you will go because you've never been a selfish man. You're the one keeping me here. Your guilt, your remorse, and those fucking scars are keeping me here."

"My scars? What the hell to they have to do with anything?"

"Everything. Because you keep them around as a reminder. You got rid of all most of the mirrors, but you look at them every time you look in his eyes. You see them reflected back at you through him." Paul's voice was soft--not condemning or condescending--just matter-of-fact . "You have to bury them with me and really move on...so that I can move on."

Ben tried to hide the anxiety in his voice. "I don't even know where it is."

"Yeah, ya do. You always have."

"I can't do it."

"Do you love Michael?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Then for both of us, you have to. If you don't, what you feel for me will destroy what you feel for him. In the end you'll end up hating me for it because you've lost him. And worse, you'll end up alone and hating yourself."

~~~~~~~

Suddenly they were in a clearing. It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves had formed a multi--colored blanket on the grown, a harmonious mixture of oranges, browns, and yellows. Paul looked absolutely beautiful; he was wearing blue linen pants with a matching shirt. His long hair was pulled back from his face as the wind played teasingly with the stray wisps it found. Ben was dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose fitting cashmere sweater that Paul had bought it for him only a week after they had met. He said he saw it in a store window and it cried out to him, so he bought it.

To Ben, it had been a lavish gift because it was something he would have never thought to buy for himself. Paul said that was precisely why he had bought and why Ben should have it. He said he knew Ben would appreciate the beauty of it without being vainglorious about it. It was then that Ben realized how Paul had a way of putting things that made them sound more elegant than they really were. But he also made them sound infinitely more interesting and eloquent in their simplicity. Paul had away of making Ben think about the splendor and unbelievable grandeur of the simple: things he'd overlook if not for Paul's being there to point them out; of things he'd taken for granted until Paul made them seem like the some of the most important things in the universe; as if Ben would never understand the world or his place in it until he understood that beauty, honesty, and the varying shades of truth were to be found in the small, seemingly insignificant complexities of the details.

Ben looked around a little bewildered until he got his bearings. Then he knew where it was and when he was.

He had picked Paul up earlier in the day and whisked him away for a little escape in the middle of the week. They'd both decided to take the day off work because they hadn't been able to spend that much time with each other during the previous weeks. Plus, it was hard at the beginning of a new relationship not to spend as much time as you can with the object of your desire. They'd only been going out for about three months and any spare time they could find was spent together, but lately, work, family, and life seemed to be getting in the way. Talking on the phone three or four times a day wasn't exactly the same thing as touching, kissing, or just holding one another as they fell asleep.

Ben had packed a picnic, consisting of pouched salmon with almandine sauce, an arugula and spinach salad with cherry tomatoes, goat cheese and a light balsamic and lemon vinaigrette dressing, accompanied by a lovely bottle of 1972 Zinfandel.

It was only a little past one and the sun was peeking coquettishly through the clouds. Even though it was a slightly overcast day, it wasn't foreboding. It was cool enough to be nice, but not too cool as to make it a problem. Even so, Ben had brought a blanket in case things worked out the way he planned.

He remembered being nervous as hell. His heart had been racing in fit and starts as he'd prepared the lunch. All the way on the drive out of the city to this secluded spot, he had found completely by accident, Ben could only communicate in grunts and fragmented sentences.

It was a divine little clearing that time seemed to have forgotten. It had tall, majestic oak and cedar trees. Their regal stature made the place look like a piece of God's own heaven. Ben had been stunned by its beauty the first time he'd seen it and he came back over and over again to think or just to get away from the rest of the world and its muddled confusion.

But never until he'd met Paul had he ever considered taking someone there, of sharing that part of himself with anyone else. Never had he wanted someone else to know about his little slice of tranquility or to disturb its quiet stillness with meaningless chatter and otherwise dangerous proclamations of reality. Paul was different, because anyone could see the beauty, but not everyone could appreciate it or absorb its vast silence and still come away with a sense of awe.

~~~~~~~

Ben's voice came to him through salty tears of remembrance as he began. "You remembered this place."

Paul looked at Ben lovingly and smiled. "You don't forget the first time the man of your dreams tells you he loves you. I remember every detail of that day. I've played it over and over in my mind. I remember how serious you looked."

"I remember how nervous I was. I knew I loved you. I knew I wanted to be with you, but I didn't if you were ready."

Paul reached over and touched Ben's face. "I was ready the day I gave you that sweater. I was waiting for you."

Ben melted into the warm touch of Paul's hand. "Why'd you bring me back here?"

"On the day of the crash, when we were trapped in the car and I kept going in and out, I was recreating this place, detail by detail, in my mind. I knew as soon as we hit that, of the two of us, I wasn't coming out of it. I felt something snap. It was a sick, acid feeling and it brought the taste of blood and iron in my mouth. I remembered hearing a college lecture on spirituality and about being able to create our own heaven. So I started building mine, here--in this place where I'd been the most loved I'd ever been in my life, on the day when the dream of you became an overwhelmingly gorgeous reality of you. I wanted you to see this because it's the place you're keeping me from." A single tear glided down Paul's face.

Ben took a step back breaking the connection. "I don't want to do this. I don't know if I can do this."

"Your life is out there waiting for you...with Michael. I'll admit I was angry as hell about it. At the end, that wasn't you. It was me. I tried to scare the shit outta him, but he wouldn't be moved. Just as I had to accept that, you have to accept this so that we can both move on." Paul closed the distance between them and hugged Ben.

Ben's arms moved reluctantly to embrace Paul. "How can I forgive myself?"

"Because it was an accident. Because I have. Because he heard it and didn't run away. Because at some point, baby, 'What if?' is just a fucking question, not a way to live the rest of your life. The scars on your body and your face are just ways of you flogging yourself. They're ways of keeping him at a distance. Even if you won't want to admit it to him, admit it to yourself. I mean really, Benny, how long did it take after he left for you get the phone service turned on? You haven't even talked to him since he left. What do you think that's about? It's time for us to let each other go. You have him and another life to build. I have this. It's not what we planned, but it's what we've got to work with."

~~~~~~~

Michael hurriedly threw some things in a bag and was rifling through the apartment in search of his keys when someone knocked on the door. The sound made him almost jump out of his skin. He caught his breath and raced for the door. He opened it to find Brian standing there. Before Brian could say anything, Michael had spun around on his heels and was back to savaging the remains of his apartment for his keys.

Brian entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He watched Michael's frantic activities for a moment. "What the fuck's going on Mikey?"

Michael didn't miss a beat in his search while he responded to his little brother. "I'm leaving. I was going to call you once I got on the road."

Brian reached out, grabbed his brother, and turned him around. "Slow down. Tell me what's going on."

"That's just the point. I'm not sure, but something's happened to Ben."

Brian looked into his brother's eyes for a moment before speaking. "You're scared."

Michael tried to pull way from Brian. "I don't have time for this shit. I have to go."

Brian held on tightly to his brother and wouldn't let him go. "I'm not trying to stop you, Michael. I just want to understand."

"I can't explain it. All I know is that something's happened and I have to go."

Brian finally let Michael go. "What're you looking for?"

"My fucking keys," Michael responded, turning around to get back to his search.

"Where was the last place you saw them?" Brian asked as he tossed his things aside.

"I just tossed 'em when I came in. I don't know where."

"Michael, calm down. Focus."

"I think I tossed 'em in the bedroom."

Brian went into the bedroom and came back a few minutes later with the keys dangling from his forefinger. He held them in front of Michael about an inch or two from his face and shook them. Michael reached up to grab them, but Brian pulled them back, clutching them tightly in his fist. "I'm coming with."

Michael stopped in mid--motion as he reached for the keys. "What?"

"You might need some help. Anyway, with the state you're in, you shouldn't be driving.

"I know you wanna help but --" Michael started.

Before Michael could finish his thought, Brian interrupted him. "Look, either I go or I'll call Ma and David and we all come down.

Michael thought about it for a minute. "Fine. Can we go now?"

"We'll stop by my place and grab a bag. Then we're outta here."

"Brian."

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet. I'm doing it for purely selfish reasons. I wanna see the guy that's turned my brother's life up-side down."

Chapter 20

Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise, and I was so afflicted for having lost you, that I resolved to starve myself, but since I have the happiness of seeing you once more, I die satisfied."

(Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont)

Brian rubbed at his eyes in an effort to keep them open. The white lines of the road were lulling him into a hypnotic state that was not alleviated by the quiet in the jeep. Volunteering to drive had seemed like the right thing to do since Michael wasn't in the right frame of mind, but after twenty minutes, Brian needed some sort of distraction. So did his brother, judging from the tense lines carved around Michael's mouth. He had tried to talk to his older brother as soon as they had gotten in the car, but Michael's monosyllabic answers had discouraged any lengthy or meaningful conversation. Still, it was worth another try to figure out WHY they were traveling at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Michael--"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Michael tersely, turning his head to stare into the blackness outside the passenger window.

It was more than he'd said since four exits ago when he'd ordered Brian to pull over. At that time, Michael had hurtled out of the car and given in to the dry heaves while Brian had sat helplessly in the car, torn between giving his brother a moment of semi-privacy and demanding to know what the fuck was going on. A few minutes later, after the spasms had stopped, Michael had climbed back into the car, composed but silent. Brian had opted for the privacy, but his patience, of which he'd never had much, had worn thin.

"I'm all for the spur of the moment, but I think I deserve an explanation for this joyride."

"Why? I didn't invite you. It was just easier than arguing with you."

"And you always like to take the easy way, huh, Mikey?" Brian didn't really believe that little jab, but it got the result he wanted: Michael turned to him with mouth agape and eyes blazing, but at least he was responsive.

"You've got some fucking nerve talking about me taking the easy way! I'm not the one who spends all his free time, buzzed to the gills and fucking anything with a pulse because it's easier than making real friends, am I? I'm not the one who--" Michael reigned in his burst of temper, clamped his lips tight, and dragged in several deep, shaky breaths. "I'm sorry. I promised myself that I wouldn't do this again. This isn't about you or me. I just want to make sure that Ben is all right."

Brian magnanimously attributed Michael's outburst to stress and let it slide. Right now, there were other matters on his mind. "Why don't you just call him?"

"No phone. He was supposed to call me when he got it hooked up, but he didn't yet."

"No phone? And you said he doesn't leave the house--"

"I told you before that he does, just not often."

"Mikey, this guy sounds like the fucking Unabomber. What are you getting yourself into?"

"I know how it sounds, but you'd understand if you knew him."

"What aren't you telling me?" Brian swore when Michael's chin jutted with stubbornness. "Well, why not call the fucking police if you think he's in trouble? It would be a hell of a lot faster and a good use of our tax dollars, wouldn't it?"

"What would I tell them? That I have a feeling? That phone static and what probably was a bad dream has got me driving over a hundred miles in the middle of the night? It doesn't even make sense to me!"

"Morning, actually." It was still pitch black outside, but it wouldn't be fore long.

"Whatever. There's no logical reason for me to be worried...except that I am and I can't rest until I'm sure."

"Must be some guy if he's worth all this."

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. "I couldn't even begin to tell you."

Brian hesitated for a moment. He might be asking for it because once his brother started talking, there was no stopping him. But if Mikey needed it..."At home you were running around with everyone or working, but we've got plenty of time now and I need something to keep me awake. Try me."

Michael looked at Brian as if gauging the sincerity of his words. Time and another quarter mile had passed before he leaned against the headrest, eyes hazy with memory while he told the story in a quiet voice. "Mom and I had been driving for a couple of hours when it got dark and cloudy and the wind started blowing..."

~~~~~~~

"What if something really happened to him?" Michael had said. His eyes had been wide with worry and he'd had that wounded puppy dog look on his face that would be sort of funny as long as his fears weren't realized. For a change, Brian had no chemical party favors and no witty response to take the edge off.

By the time they had arrived at the house, the first creeping of dawn's light was starting to chase away the darkness. When there was no answer to their furious knocks, they had fumbled to the back of the house and broken a window to get in. Brian had expected his brother to protest, but Michael was only focused on getting in the house and checking on Ben. They had run from room to room, finding each one devoid of life. Brian had quickly scanned the library and had been about to leave when he saw the shoe sticking out from behind the couch. With panic making his heart race, he rushed over, calling Michael's name. It must be Ben, but a still, pale Ben who seemed as lifeless as...He couldn't even think the words. His first instinct had been to shelter Michael, to stand in front of the body and shield his brother from the worst, but Michael had surprised him by shoving him aside as soon as he had skidded into the room.

While Brian stood by, at loose ends, Michael knelt at Ben's side. He pressed his fingers to Ben's neck and found a pulse that he said was slow but strong and he made sure Ben was breathing. The panic that he'd expressed in the car seemed to have disappeared and in its place was urgency that was focused and had an unlikely air of calm about it. If he hadn't known better, Brian would have thought that Michael found unconscious boyfriends on a daily basis.

Brian would have placed Ben on the couch or somewhere more comfortable than the cold, wooden floor, but it was Michael who insisted that moving the fallen man might do more harm than good, especially if anything was broken like his neck. He said the words with more aplomb than Brian would ever have thought that Michael could muster when hinting about broken necks and possible paralysis.

The unconscious Ben had groaned and stirred, prompting them to call an ambulance on Brian's cell phone. While Brian gave them directions to the house, Michael had checked Ben's arms, legs, and ribs for fractures. Finding none, he took Ben's hand in his own and began whispering in his ear.

Despite Michael's warning, Brian was surprised that this new boyfriend looked worse for wear. A few scars, my ass, thought Brian. Then again, it all depended on one's perspective. Ben's face was covered with a spider web of pink scars. His features weren't distorted and, at the right angle, everything seemed normal. He fit just the type of man that his brother usually went for: tall, handsome, strong looking. However, from what Michael had described, he fit the other type that also drew Michael, though he didn't seem to be aware of it--the ones who needed that a little extra caring. Brian, himself, had been on the receiving end of his brother's big-hearted natures, so now he wondered how much of this was Michael's need to rescue everyone around him. Unfortunately, it seemed that it would be a while before he could feel Ben out.

The paramedics arrived quickly and set about their tasks with efficiency. They rapidly assessed Ben's injuries and loaded him onto a stretcher. When they tried to tell Michael that it would be better if he followed in the car with Brian, they faced a formidable opponent who, through sheer stubbornness and a sharp look in his eye that would not be refused, scored a seat in the ambulance next to their patient.

Brian followed them out of the library, looking back for a moment at the spot where Ben had lain. On the floor was a splash of reddish black that he knew would be sticky if he touched it and would have the faintest copper scent if he stood too close. He hurried out the door to follow the ambulance.

~~~~~~~

Paul and Ben perched on an overturned tree listening to the stirrings of the wooded haven surrounding them. Ben was amazed by the details that he had forgotten: how the shadows of the tree branches criss-crossed in a lace-like pattern when the sun hung in the sky just so; how the fallen leaves rustled across the ground with each passing breeze and created a soothing melody; how the smell of moss and pine cone and damp grass mixed in the air like Nature's own perfume.

He let out an unsteady laugh that was lacking in humor. "Maybe I should stay here." What could be better than this place that had nothing but the happiest memories? There would be no questions or doubts here--no risk of losing anything because what he'd lost was already here.

Paul shook his head no. "Haven't you heard what I've been saying? This place is mine, not yours. Much as I'd love to spend forever with you, you don't belong in my world and I don't belong in yours. Listen. Don't you hear it?"

Ben listened, but only heard the wind whistling through the trees. "Hear what? I don't hear anything."

"Listen more closely. Maybe if you stop letting your fear deafen you, it'll come. When you can hear the truth, you'll know what to do."

They sat together as the sun crawled across the sky, towards the horizon. Ben listened to the wind-borne jumbled sounds through the forest clearing until his ears ached. The sounds became whispers that tickled his ears and awoke long lost memory. And when he listened closer still, as Paul had demanded, he thought that the sounds weren't random, and that the wind was speaking to him.

~~~~~~~

Ben peeled his eyes open and blinked in pain when fluorescent white lights blinded him. His heart tripped over a few beats in memory of the last time he'd woken like this and he and Paul had started their strange duet. History seemed to be repeating itself, judging by the man sitting at his bedside. Then Ben's eyes adjusted and a second look assured him that his companion was a complete stranger. He struggled to sit up and the noise made the stranger look and up stare at him with drowsy, hazel eyes. Ben cleared his throat and steadied himself against the pain that made his head throb with every heartbeat. "Where am I?" he asked with raspy voice. "And who are you?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said the stranger with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're in the hospital. I'm just here to Ben-sit until my brother gets back. He didn't want to leave you alone, though I don't know why." He swept a cursory glance across Ben's body, which was tucked, tight into the bed and hooked up to numerous monitors and an intravenous line. "It's not as if you're going to hop out of the bed and run helter skelter into the night."

Ben's head felt fuzzy as he attempted to process the string of words. He latched onto one that had stood out from the others. "Brother?"

The stranger leaned forward, his jaw set with determination. "Brian Novotny at your service. I know you're probably tired, but Mikey won't be gone long and you and I have a little talking to do."

~~~~~~~

Michael balanced the two cups of hot soup in one hand and coffee in the other while he nudged open the hospital room door with his shoulder. Inside, Ben was up and awake, though he looked a little pale and shaken. Michael hurried to the bedside and shoved the cups at Brian who yelped when the cups tipped and dripped onto his hand. "You're awake!" Michael exclaimed happily.

"Brilliant deduction, Mikey. Neither of us noticed," said Brian sourly while he set the cups down and dabbed at his hand with a tissue. "I may need some first aid for this."

Michael glanced at the slightly red patch on his brother's hand. "Stop being a baby and go run some cold water over it if it's bothering you that much."

"Yes, mother," Brian said in a falsetto voice. He stood and walked into the bathroom.

Michael turned to Ben and ran his hands over his lover's face and arm until he reached his hand. He gripped it tightly and whispered, "Are you okay? You scared the bejesus out of me."

Ben nodded. "I don't remember what happened except that I was climbing a ladder and then I had a weird dream."

"The past few hours have been a nightmare for me." Michael brought Ben's hand to his face and rubbed the knuckles over his cheek. "I missed you. It was weird not talking to you for so long. And then I came back and...Why didn't you call me? And what the fuck were you doing climbing ladders?" The last was said lightly, but Michael could feel the worry gnawing at his stomach as if the gruesome discovery were happening all over again.

"Jesus, Michael. The man practically split his head open and you want to lay a guilt trip on him?" Brian leaned against the bathroom doorway and shook his head in disbelief.

"Do you mind, Brian?" asked Michael with impatience.

Brian shrugged and walked to a chair. "I don't mind at all. Go on."

"Get out!"

Brian raised his eyebrows at Michael's forcefulness. "I get the hint, Mikey. I'll be outside, in front of the building."

"Try not to smoke anything illegal while you're gone, " Michael called out to his brother's departing figure.

Brian turned back at the doorway and said to Ben, "You remember what I told you, okay?"

Michael looked at Ben. "What were you all talking about before I came in?"

"Nothing special."

"Come on. You can tell me."

"It's nothing, really. He told me that if I didn't shape up or if I did anything to hurt you, he'd give me a matching scar on the other side of my face."

Michael jumped up and could feel his blood starting to simmer and boil. "What the hell? I'll kill that little shit! I--"

Ben grabbed Michael's hands and pulled him back down. "It's okay."

"How can you say that? He had no right! He just--"

"Calm down. It's really okay."

Michael frowned. Ben really didn't seem to be bothered and he didn't seem to be putting up a brave front or nursing hidden anger. "You should be mad. I'm mad. Why aren't you?"

"All this time, I've been hiding from everyone. Someone told me recently that I was using my scars as a shield to push you and push everyone away. He was right. I didn't want anyone to look too closely because they'd see what was beneath those scars and they'd hate it. I liked having something that kept people at a distance, but that kind of loneliness and isolation isn't me. It was sort of a relief to have someone look at me and not faint or cringe or act like they don't see them--to have someone just talk as if there were still a human behind the face. You do that...and so did your brother. He must take after you."

"I don't know about the last bit." Michael sat back down, melted into Ben's arms, and said quietly, "And here I thought you were beyond all that. I keep telling you that you're making too big a deal about them."

"Brian said the same thing. He told me that if I used them as an excuse to run away from you, I was being a chicken shit."

"I really have to talk to him about his people skills. I don't know how he made it in the advertising business with that mouth of his."

Ben pushed Michael back to look into his eyes. "He was right, though. And so was my other friend. While you were gone, I was preparing for you to return, but deep down, I was preparing for you to change your mind and never come back."

"Don't you trust me?" asked Michael. He regretted the little boy lost quality of his voice when he said it, but damn it, Ben's lack of faith cut to the quick.

"He told me to listen and I did."

"Who told you? Told you what? What did you hear?"

"Come closer."

Michael leaned forward.

"Closer than that."

Michael smiled and looked towards the door. "There's a nurse out there who makes Nurse Ratchett look like Florence Nightingale. If she finds us, she'll try to kick my ass out of here."

Ben chuckled and held his breath to stop. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Michael sobered instantly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly. Just come here."

Michael slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed carefully avoiding jostling it as much as he could. He settled himself against Ben's side and twined their hands together. "Happy?"

Ben sighed and pressed his face against Michael's head. "Immensely."

"So, talk. I'm all ears."

"I talked with Paul again."

Michael's body became taut with fear. He would have sat up if Ben's arm didn't keep him right where he was. "I thought you said he was gone?"

Ben rubbed Michael's arm in unconscious comfort. "It wasn't like before. We just...talked."

"And?"

"And he's the one who told me to listen, so I did and what I heard surprised me."

"What did you hear?"

Ben tipped Michael's face up by the chin. "You. I heard everything you've said with words and without and it reminded me of all the reasons I need to say goodbye and all the reasons that going back into the world would be worth it. I've never been one to hide from what hurts and I hated that I had become that. I hated that I had hurt someone I loved--even if it was an accident. I hated that I was letting the past rule my life and ruin it. That's not me. I was more like a ghost than Paul was, but I still had a heartbeat supposedly."

"And now?"

"Now, I need to do a few things to put it all behind me...and..."

"What?"

"And I want you by my side when I do it."

Michael was silent for a long time, digesting everything that Ben said. He swallowed the thick feeling in his throat and asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm more sure than I've ever been in my life."

Years later, there would be many who would ask Michael when he first fell in love. They always looked confused when he replied that there were too many times to name them all, that their had been the moment when their eyes first met, the first time they touched, the first time they made love. And then there the most precious moments--some of them when they were together and some of them when they were separated physically, but united in spirit, when the other was first in their thoughts, when pain and fear were put aside for the chance at something new and wonderful.

~~~~~~~

Brian peeked into the crack of the doorway. He wasn't surprised to see Michael in the bed with Ben, wrapped around him as if he'd never let go. In fact, he'd venture to say that Michael had never looked more as if he belonged. Brian made a U-turn and left the lovers alone while he went to find that nurse who'd been giving him the eye. He had a feeling that Ben and Michael would want a little more time alone.

~~~~~~~

A month later...

Scott Holton looked up at the house's facade and wondered if he had made a wrong turn. Icicle lights twinkled around the windows and candles and wreaths decorated the windows. The house felt alive in a way that it hadn't for a long time. He smiled at the stranger who opened Ben's front door.

"Come in! Party's just getting started," said the older man. His face was lined with the creases of time, but his smile was bright and welcoming.

Scott stomped the snow off his feet and entered the house. The changes were not only on the exterior, he quickly observed. The foyer was sparkling with multi-colored lights. The festive reds, greens, and blues bounced off every reflective surface, including the missing mirrors that had graced their respective positions again. Inside, the air was filled with the fragrance of fresh pine boughs mixed with a hint of cinnamon. The laughter that echoed from the large reception room and the warmth in the air seemed to envelop him in a loving embrace.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Those students are relentless when it comes to collecting their grades. I still have ink stains from marking papers and final exams." Scott held up his hands as evidence.

"Not to worry. Everyone has been drifting in one at a time. I'm Vic Grassi, by the way--Michael's uncle." Vic offered his hand.

"Scott Holton." They shook hands and then Vic took Scott's coat and ushered him into the room where the holiday party was in full sway. Cheerful music wafted from well-hidden speakers. A large Christmas tree fully loaded with tinsel, lights, and silvery bows, dominated one corner of the room. Scott looked around for Ben, but his eyes passed over him twice before he realized that the smiling, laughing figure standing in a knot of party guests was indeed his friend. The house wasn't the only thing that had been transformed.

Scott turned to the buffet table and selected a cup of eggnog. He sipped at it while he awaited the opportune moment to make his presence known. As he watched Ben talking happily, he wondered at the change. It was a few minutes before he realized that the scars on Ben's face seemed to have disappeared. He'd only seen Ben from a distance since the surgery but even from across the room, the results, once the swelling was gone, were remarkable. "Holy shit," he muttered under his breath. "What a miracle."

"The miracle of plastic surgery," said a new voice at his side.

Scott didn't take his eyes off Ben. "It hardly seems possible that they could be gone so easily."

"They're not gone. They actually cut them again and put them back together so they don't show as much. It was anything but easy and all I had to do was watch them heal. Seems pretty barbaric if you ask me, but he wanted it and he's happy with how it turned out."

Scott turned to the speaker and was struck by the light of fondness sparkling in those dark brown eyes that were fixed steadily on Ben. "You must be Michael."

Michael turned and smiled broadly. "I am. Nice to meet you...Scott, right? I recognize you from some of Ben's pictures. I'm glad you came. Ben's been looking forward to you being here."

"I missed talking to him. We all did, but he wasn't ready to accept anything from anyone for so long."

Michael nodded. "He's a lot better now." As proof of Michael's words, Ben's deep laugh rumbled across the room. "Come say hello."

"No. I'll give him a minute."

Michael shrugged. "Well, then, help yourself. There are lots of hors d'oeuvres and Ben and my uncle have been cooking up a storm since yesterday. " Something drew his attention to a corner of the room. "Oh, God. There she goes again. I keep telling her that there's enough mistletoe in here to choke a horse, but she keeps hanging more and more of the stuff. It was nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll get a chance to talk again. I'm taking one of your classes next semester."

Michael put his cup down and rushed over to a redheaded woman who was perched precariously on a chair with the holiday contraband in her hands. While Scott watched, the woman swatted at Michael's hands and hung the mistletoe with a clap of gleeful satisfaction. Vic helped her down from the chair while Michael frowned and tapped his foot impatiently. Ben took Michael by the arm and pulled him away.

Just then, one of the guests used a spoon to clink his mug of eggnog for attention. The small crowd quieted and listened.

"Thank you. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Emmett Honeycutt. Michael has been a dear friend of mine for many years. Ever since the hooker who lived in my building...What?" He leaned over to listen to Michael's whispered comment. "Oh, honey, I wasn't going to give them THAT many details. Strictly a G rating, I promise. Wouldn't want the little ones ears to burn," Emmett said with a smile and a cheery wave at the few children who had accompanied their parents. "As I was saying, Michael has been a dear friend ever since he rescued me from the cold, lonely streets of Pittsburgh. If not for him, I'd be sitting on some porch in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, drowning my sorrows in my Aunt Mabel's homemade peach wine."

"Is this story going to be as long as his other ones? I already have plans for New Year's Eve. I wasn't planning on being here that long." said a tall, slim, slightly bored looking man who stood a few feet away from Scott. The air left the man's lungs in a small rush when the red-headed mistletoe woman elbowed him in the stomach.

Emmett continued, unaware of the disturbance. "When Michael told us that he was leaving, I was devastated. It was an emotional time, but I've never been one to give in to tears and drama." Next to him, a dark-haired man snorted and hid a grin behind a sip of champagne. The glass was nearly to his lips when Emmett said, "Wait until I'm done, Teddy!" Teddy's cheeks flamed with with self-conscious embarrassment when all eyes fell on him. He paused to await the rest of Emmett's speech.

"When Michael told us WHY he was leaving, I was happy that he was happy, but worried. It all seemed so fast. It was just like that movie..."

"If he mentions Barbra Streisand or Elizabeth Taylor, I swear I'm going to be sick," muttered the bored man, only loud enough for Scott to hear.

"...with Audrey Hepburn where she plays a beautiful princess who falls in love after spending a day with the handsome reporter. Of course, they had to go their separate ways because no princess was about to marry some middle class American reporter no matter how gorgeous Gregory Peck is. But if that princess had been me--" Emmett turned when Teddy tugged on his sleeve and raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry that I'm rambling. I just wanted to say that Ben is marvelous and I'm very happy that the two of them found each other." Emmett raised his glass high. "A wise man once said: 'Love doesn't make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.' Here's to you, Michael and Ben. May you and everyone else in the room get all the love they deserve and more."

There was the clinking of glass against glass, a round of applause, and cries of, "Here, here" throughout the room. When Teddy asked who the wise man was, Emmett freely admitted, "Oh, sweetie, I don't know. I read it on a place mat at that new French cafe where we had lunch last week." There was more laughter, vibrant conversation, and the pouring of more eggnog and champagne while Ben pulled Michael more firmly into his arms and nuzzled his neck, making the smaller man laugh. The red-head, who Scott later found out was Michael's mother, managed to hang another strategic pieces of mistletoe while her son was distracted.

"Ain't love grand?" said the bored man. "Mikey thrives on the stuff. So does the Professor, apparently."

In a doorway near the Christmas tree, Ben turned Michael to face him. The crowd swirled around them, unnoticed. Some of the guests continued chatting. A few of them politely turned away with smiles thrown at the two men. Most of the guests watched with love as the couple whispered quiet words to each other. Ben reached up and tapped the newest strand of mistletoe while he spoke and Michael groaned and hid his face against Ben's chest, shaking his head no. After a few moments, Ben seemed to have won whatever minor disagreement they were having. He cupped Michael's face with tenderness and kissed him softly on the mouth.

Scott smiled at the cynical man's pronouncement. "Truer words were never spoken."

...from this tale of Beauty
Learn, and in your memory write-
Daily leads a Path of Duty
Through the Garden of Delight;
Where the loveliest roses wear
Daunting thorns, for you to dare.

(Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch)

End of "Beauty" by LadyArmand and Mikou -- email

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