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SEE PART 00 FOR WARNINGS & NOTES

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The jury returned with a verdict very late in the afternoon the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. The prosecution had sweat a few bullets because the deliberation dragged on for quite a few days. Sean, Christian, Matt, Kimber, Liz, and Linda were all present for the verdict. As they sat and waited for the jury to file in, Christian held out his hand, palm up, to Sean, who gladly slipped his hand into it, gripping firmly. Sean was holding up well, and getting better all the time at keeping a calm, composed, outward appearance. Still, Christian knew what Liz said was true - - he would never be free of his grief over Annie. A lifetime of birthdays, missed milestones, and an aching void that could never be filled would linger with him over time. With a little guilt, Christian realized that because of their relationship, Sean would never have another daughter. But in a sense, it didn't matter. Twelve more daughters would never replace Annie, or erase the pain of her death.

For the first time, Christian really looked at the people on the other side of the courtroom. Marlowe's mother, a matronly looking older woman with hair that was probably dyed a color similar to his, a younger sister dressed in a tasteful business suit, and a few cousins. Not a large family overall, but they had traveled all the way to Miami from New Jersey to be there for most of the trial. It still seemed surreal that Marlowe could have such a fiendish side as to plot Sean's death just to get Conor away from him and have a clear shot to travel with Julia and the kids. Or, maybe more shocking, not that he was a fiend but that he was so convinced that Sean was such a horrendous father that he deserved to die in a fiery explosion merely to save Conor from being raised by him. Or could Marlowe truly be so delusional as to think reconstructive surgery was such an atrocity that it justified murder to prevent it?

Christian realized he was squeezing Sean's hand tighter than Sean was squeezing his. Sometimes the thought of how close he'd come to losing Sean to a grisly death not once, but twice, within a short span of time sent a new set of chills down his spine.

The judge received the written verdict from the jury and read it silently, before instructing Marlowe to rise, and the jury foreman to read the verdict.

"On the charge of the attempted murder of Sean McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty," the man in the jury box read. There was a brief murmur of voices among the McNamara-Troy contingent, and Sean just closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing Christian's hand. If Marlowe was guilty of that charge, then the felony murder convictions for Annie and Julia would logically follow, and they did.

"On the charge of felony murder in the case of Julia McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty." By now, Marlowe's mother was in tears, and Christian couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Seeing your son on his way to prison for life is never a happy occasion, and in this case, she had yet to fear the possibility of the death penalty.

"On the charge of felony murder in the case of Ann McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty." Christian looked at Sean, and noticed that his eyes had filled and he was swallowing hard. Still, he stayed silent, sitting through each part of the verdict.

"On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty."

"On the charge of kidnaping with regard to Conor McNamara, we find the defendant, Marlowe Sawyer, guilty."

Once the full verdict had been read, Matt, Kimber, Liz, Linda and Christian all stood, hugging each other and feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders. It was over, and Marlowe had been found guilty. Christian's momentary celebration was cut short by Sean's stillness. He sat back down next to Sean.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting his arm around Sean's shoulders.

"Two tragedies result in another tragedy. Everybody loses. Another parent mourns another child. Another family's torn apart and never the same again. Annie and Julia are still dead." He sighed, wiping away a stray tear. "Doesn't seem like much of a reason to celebrate."

"The good guys won, Dad," Matt said, sitting on the other side of Sean, not having heard what his father said. "That's justice for Mom and Annie, and for you, and even for Conor."

"There's no justice to be had here, Matt. How do you atone for something like that?"

"I thought you'd be glad," Matt said.

"I am, in a way. If he'd been acquitted, it would have been difficult to take."

"Why don't we all go out to dinner?" Kimber suggested. Christian looked at her as if she'd sprouted third eye in the middle of her forehead. "I just meant, the trial's over, and the jury made the right decision. We've all been on needles and pins waiting..."

Sean reached toward Kimber and took her hand briefly. "It's a nice idea, Kimber. Maybe we can take a rain check? I think I'd rather just go home right now."

"Of course, Sean. Are you all right?" she asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

"I'll be fine. You guys pick up Jenna and enjoy a little family time," Sean said, referring to the fact that Maria was watching Jenna and Conor both at their house while they were at the trial.

As they all prepared to leave, Sean watched Marlowe being escorted out of the courtroom as his family left, his mother still in tears as his sister escorted her to the door. They still had the sentencing phase to go through, and both sides were undoubtedly going to be pouring over their strategies to get the outcome they wanted. At best, Marlowe was heading for a life behind bars. At worst, he was headed for death row. Sean wasn't sure where he wanted to see him go, or if it even mattered.

Matthews approached the group before they left the courtroom.

"I'm hoping at least a couple of you will be willing to make victim impact statements during the sentencing hearing."

"Do you think it'll really make a difference?" Sean asked. "We've all testified."

"It's an opportunity for you to express the effect the crime has had on your life. It can have some effect on the judge's decision."

"Let us know when they set a date," Sean said. "We'll talk it over."

"Thanks for doing such a great job on this case," Christian said, shaking hands with Matthews.

"I'm just glad we got the right verdict. I will be making a statement to the media shortly. Anything you folks would like to say publicly? Might get some of the bloodhounds off your trail."

"I think this might be the appropriate time to make a statement," Sean said, and Christian nodded.

********

The impromptu press conference on the courtroom steps had attracted all of the local media, as well as most of the national news networks. Matthews made his statement first, acknowledging the work of the police department and the forensics team who had pieced together the evidence on the explosives, doing a bit of grandstanding about the horrendous nature of the crime and how the perpetrators had been brought to justice. He also expressed his intent to pursue the death penalty in Marlowe's case, as Jude had bargained his way out of that by testifying against his cousin.

Sean felt a little overwhelmed by the sea of reporters and the bank of microphones all waiting at attention for him to start speaking. He took a deep breath, and a moment to compose his thoughts. If he'd spoken at Julia's and Annie's memorial service, he could certainly speak to these people, now.

"I wanted to make a statement today primarily to express gratitude to some people. First of all, to the members of the media who have respected my family's privacy, and our decision not to make statements or grant interviews, I would like to say thank you. This has been a very difficult time, and our family has suffered greatly in the past several months.

I would like to thank Mr. Matthews and his team for their impressive work in the courtroom, and their dedication to getting a conviction, and justice for my family. I also want to thank Detective Fishman, who led the task force in solving the case. This thank you means the most to me, because when my son was taken, he and his team sprang into action, and Conor was back home in twenty-four hours. He got the confession from Jude Sawyer. More than that, he was consistently professional, thorough, completely dedicated to this case, and he treated my family with sensitivity. He investigated us, asked us painful questions as he should have...but he was also kind, compassionate, and supportive. I trusted him to find out who did this, and give us some sense of ...resolution, and he lived up to that trust. He is a fine detective and a class act." Sean turned away from the microphones and shook hands with Fishman, who was standing with Matthews. The two men shared a very brief, one-armed hug. "If I didn't say thanks before, thank you," Sean said quietly, away from the range of the microphones.

"I'm just glad we nailed the bastards," he responded, smiling. His words gave Sean a little sense of victory, too, and he returned the smile. Annie and Julia were gone, and they couldn't be brought back, but at least the men responsible for their deaths were going to pay for it. Maybe there was a little comfort to be had there.

********

Christian knocked on the heavy wood door, not sure what to expect when it was answered. A uniformed housekeeper opened it.

"I'd like to see Mrs. Landau. Dr. Christian Troy," he said, introducing himself.

"Please come in, Dr. Troy. I'll let Mrs. Landau know you're here." With that, the housekeeper disappeared down a hallway. A couple minutes later, Michelle walked out, just finishing a call on her cell phone. When she broke the connection, she took a deep breath and then just looked at Christian with an upraised eyebrow.

"Why are you here?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be in Miami."

"Landau Industries has a number of holding here. McNamara/Troy was one of many. Or did you think I'd be so devastated by your rejection that I'd be forced to leave town in disgrace?"

"I'm not sure what I thought," he answered honestly, finding it hard to believe he had once thought she held the key to his happiness, that loving her was more important than his partnership with Sean. "Could we sit down?"

"Of course." She led the way into the living room, sitting on the couch while he sat in a nearby wingback chair.

"I thought you were going to sell this place," he said, referring to the house she had lived in with Burt.

"The market conditions aren't really ideal at the moment, and it's a beautiful house. I'm in no hurry." She crossed her legs. "What is it you want, Christian?"

"Marlowe Sawyer was just convicted for trying to kill Sean. For killing Annie and Julia instead."

"I follow the news. It's no secret I don't have any lingering fondness for Sean under the circumstances, but Julia and Annie were innocent victims, and I'm glad the person responsible is paying the price."

"They've asked the family to make victim impact statements. The prosecutor is gunning for the death penalty."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Before I go up there and make some kind of statement that might help influence a judge to send Marlowe to death row, I need to be sure that he's really guilty."

"You don't have faith in the conviction?"

"Before all this happened with Marlowe, I thought maybe you had something to do with it."

"That's insulting and incredible hurtful, Christian. But it isn't news. The police put me through a very thorough and somewhat embarrassing investigation. I didn't have to wonder who gave them my name as a suspect."

"Jude Sawyer was working for you."

"He was working for Landau Industries. I never met him personally."

"He had his reasons for not liking Sean very much, either."

"If you're implying that I was somehow...in cahoots with Jude Sawyer, you're very wrong. I'm not going to deny that Sean being in that car wouldn't have caused me any serious grief. He destroyed our happiness, our chance at a life together. But I wouldn't have killed him or ordered his death. I'm not a murderer."

"Really? You're sticking to your story that old Burt just conveniently keeled over shortly after I let you know I wasn't going to sit around and be your boy toy on the side."

"Boy toy? Oh, Christian, please, listen to yourself. You're not exactly 'boy toy' material for a woman my age. Maybe some of those elderly socialites you nip and tuck, but for me? You're just another aging hot shot looking for a young wife."

"I was looking for someone to share my life with. It had nothing to do with your age." Christian was somewhat surprised at how little her words stung, how little he cared what she thought of him, or even if he was aging. He was aging with Sean, and Sean looked at him with nothing but love and a healthy shot of lust. What did he possibly have to worry about over a couple of insults from Michelle?

"Now you think I murdered Burt to be with you, and that I schemed to blow Sean up to get you back? I'm sorry, Christian, but even you aren't that good in bed."

"It's been a pleasure, as always," Christian said, standing.

"You dump me for your partner, then you suspect me of being a killer, and you're walking out offended? I think you still have feelings for me, and that's why you're here. You're still ambivalent about swearing off the female race for Sean." She stood and moved closer to Christian. "Tell me, do you miss the feeling of my breasts against your body when you're ramming in and out of Sean?"

"You know something? I don't ram in and out of Sean. When I'm inside him all I want is to see pleasure and joy on his face, and his pleasure makes me happy. It touches my heart in places no one else ever reached. I love him so much that being inside him is like savoring a fine wine - - you don't guzzle it down like cheap Kool-Aid," he added, giving her a pointed look before heading toward the door.

"Why did you even come here? So you can try to convince yourself that this watered down version of sex you're having with Sean is enough for you? That you don't still feel hot in all the right places when you think about sliding into my body instead of shoving your way into a middle-aged male ass and trying to tell yourself it's what you want?"

"How did I ever love you? Or think I did? What's worse, how did I almost let my partnership with Sean slip away over you? Shit, I'd have probably ended up like Burt."

"My husband was old and sick and ready to die."

"Burt was old and sick, but that ornery son of a bitch wanted to live forever. I don't believe for a moment that he accommodated you by dropping dead at such a convenient time."

"So what are you going to do about it? You have no proof - - just a bunch of groundless accusations." Christian detected a note of fear in her defiant tone, and he had his answer. He'd seen Michelle lie plenty of times while they were together, and he felt like he'd hit an Achilles heel when he accused her of having something to do with Burt's death. When she'd talked about Sean, she was just as bitter, but not as nervous.

"Burt was a sick, nasty old bastard who put us through hell. Why should I waste my time avenging his death now? Besides, like you said, there's no proof. I needed to know if you had anything to do with trying to kill Sean. Now I have my answer."

Christian walked out the door, knowing Michelle hollered something after him before slamming it, but he didn't hear it and didn't care. It gave him chills wondering if Burt Landau had met his maker to clear the way for Michelle to be with him. Not for Burt's sake - - he hardly deserved anyone's sympathy after the way he'd demeaned and degraded both of them and used his power over Christian, and Sean, to make Christian participate in his perverted games. It was the fact she was capable of killing because Burt was in her way that unsettled him.

********

Sean was asleep when Christian entered the master bedroom. He knew he'd been gone a while, and he hadn't really let Sean know where he was going. After his confrontation with Michelle, he'd gone out for a couple drinks just to relax a little. They hadn't accomplished that goal, and he'd realized a bit belatedly that making love with Sean probably would have done a better job.

He went into the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, used the toilet, washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Sean's reflection in the mirror behind him startled him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Sean said. "Everything okay?" he asked. There was no reproach in his voice, just concern.

"Fine, now." Christian turned and pulled Sean into his arms, smiling as he realized that there was nothing missing from what he felt rubbing against his body right now. He rubbed Sean's back, letting his hand stray down to just lightly caress Sean's boxer-clad ass. Even though he was touching him there, there was more love in the gesture than sexual overture.

"I missed you, too," Sean said, smiling.

"I went to see Michelle," Christian confessed as he pulled back.

"What for?" Sean asked, confusion plain on his face.

"I needed to be sure that she didn't have anything to do with the explosion. That all the shit the defense was shoveling about the possibility of her getting Jude to do it for her was just that - - shit."

"Are you sure now?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Michelle did an awful lot of lying to me when we were together. About her past, mostly. I also feel convinced she helped Burt die, if she didn't kill him in cold blood." Christian pulled back the covers and got into his side of the bed. Sean got back in also, on his side, leaning up on his elbow. "When I accused her of having something to do with Burt's death, she became very nervous, actually telling me I had no proof. With the whole Jude thing, she was just too comfortable with denying it. I could be wrong, but I believe she wasn't involved in the explosion."

"I could have told you that," Sean said, his voice oddly quiet.

"How?"

"Because I know it was Marlowe's idea. You'll think I'm insane when I tell you why."

"Try me," Christian said, reaching over to take Sean's hand.

"That night in the nursery...the night when the picture broke?"

"I remember. It was that photo of Julia and Marlowe with Conor."

"It's not just because it was a photo of them together that broke, and I couldn't figure out any logical reason for it to have just fallen off the table. That bothered me, but it wouldn't have necessarily made me think Marlowe was guilty of anything." Sean paused. "I heard a voice."

"A voice?"

"That's not right. I heard Julia's voice. Just one word: 'Marlowe.'"

"So Julia's ghost told you it was Marlowe?"

"I told you you'd think I was crazy. It's why I didn't say anything. I kind of thought I might be going crazy myself at the time. I was having nightmares, seeing visions of Julia, dead, popping up in bed with me. When Escobar showed up, I didn't even know the difference. If he hadn't left me that business card, I probably would have thought he was a hallucination, too." Sean shuddered, and Christian instinctively opened his arms, glad to hold Sean close, to feel Sean's head on his shoulder, Sean's body against his.

"You were going through hell, and the grief was so fresh..."

"That I was seeing things. I know, that's what it sounds like. But I know I heard a voice in the nursery that night. Conor was fussy, more so than what he usually is. I tried to tell myself it was my imagination, that Conor just missed his mother. But why would I imagine that? I didn't even suspect Marlowe of anything at that point. Right after that, I told Fishman about him not showing up on the job - - "

"Well there you go. You were suspicious something was wrong because he didn't show up for work."

"I wasn't thinking that clearly then. Maybe I should have, but Marlowe was so non-violent, or at least, he seemed like some kind of midget flower child artist type with his new-age hypnosis and pain studies and repressed memory bullshit. I didn't take him seriously, to tell you the truth, and I never would have suspected him of trying to kill me, even if he did hate my guts."

"You're convinced Julia told you about Marlowe that night?"

"Yes, I am, even if that makes me sound crazy."

"Maybe you're right." Christian kissed Sean's forehead. "When you had your nightmares where Julia appeared to you...it was always cold. I felt the cold, checked the thermostat. I'm not prepared to say that I don't believe there's a logical explanation for that. I just thought you should know."

"Believe me, I prefer a logical explanation. Maybe I'm really so far gone that I heard voices."

"You'd be entitled to some strange behavior and stress-induced hallucinations, if you had them."

"I'm glad you're home." Sean's body seemed to become almost boneless against Christian, as if Sean had let go of all his worries now that Christian was home and they were together. Christian smiled at that thought, loving that he had that effect on Sean.

"So am I. I love you," he said, tilting Sean's chin up for a kiss. It was gentle and soft. He didn't particularly want to stir excitement in Sean and pull him out of the relaxed, nearly sleeping state he was in.

"I love you, too," Sean said with a sleepy smile before nestling against Christian and yawning, then falling silent. Something in knowing he could make things so much better in Sean's world with a hug and a goodnight kiss moved Christian deeply. He looked at Sean's left hand as it rested on his chest. Sean's ringless left hand, where a wedding ring should be.

It would be Christmas soon after the sentencing hearing was over. Gently kissing Sean's hand and holding it in his own, he knew what he was getting Sean for Christmas this year.

********

"A loss like this is so enormous that it's hard to know where to start to explain the impact it's had on your life, or on the lives of the people you love," Christian began, still feeling as if his grief for Julia and Annie was so secondary to Sean's that he had little right to be making a victim impact statement. Still, Matthews had been anxious to get as many articulate, compelling statements as he could in fighting for the death penalty, so Christian found himself at the podium in the courtroom, making a statement.

"Julia and I were friends for twenty-five years. I think it's safe to be honest now and say that for much of that time, I was jealous of Sean for having married her. I remain privileged to know that Matt is my biological son, even though my partner, Sean, did all the hard work raising him," he said, smiling. "Annie was a treasure. I know how Sean feels about Matt being my son, because it's how I feel about Annie as his daughter. I couldn't have loved her more if she was mine," Christian said, pausing to hold onto his composure. "She was so like her father - - smart, serious-minded, kind, loving...she was growing into an amazing young woman."

"Marlowe Sawyer has professed from the outset that he didn't mean for Julia and Annie to die, and I believe him. I just don't find it any less contemptible that he did mean for Sean to die. That he wanted to take the person who is the most important person in my life, and blow him off the face of the Earth. That while Sean was grieving bitterly the loss of his daughter, Marlowe Sawyer took it on himself to decide that Sean shouldn't have his own son, either, and tried to take him, putting Sean through a level of hell that defines sadism. He was so obsessed with imposing his will in how Conor was raised that he was willing to kidnap him and flee the state. When you look at the misery and destruction this man has caused, I'm not sure how these crimes could be worthy of anything but the harshest penalty you can impose. Thank you."

Matt took his turn next, approaching the podium with a couple sheets of paper.

"I had to write this down, because it's very hard to get through," he said. "My daughter, Jenna, was born during the trial of the man who killed my mother and sister. Jenna will never know her grandmother, and my mom will never get to see her granddaughter." Matt paused, working hard to hold back tears. "We had just found out my wife was pregnant right before Mom and Annie were killed. Mom was worried because she thought I was too young for all this responsibility, but she was so excited to see her first grandchild. And Annie would have been such an awesome aunt to Jenna. Just like she was a great big sister to Conor."

He looked at Marlowe, who was sitting silently at the defense table, watching the statements.

"You tore my family apart. You killed my mother, my sister, left my granddaughter without two of the most important women in her life, next to her mother. You destroyed my dad's peace of mind and happiness. All because you thought you knew better how to raise Conor than my dad did, or because you wanted him out of the way so you could step in and take over his family - - my family. My little brother is lucky to have our dad raising him. I don't always make it clear, but I've always felt lucky. He's a good father and he didn't deserve the awful things you did to him. He sure didn't deserve to almost die just to make things more convenient for you. When they strap you on that gurney for the lethal injection, I'll be in the front row. You're nothing but a monster." With that, Matt returned to his seat.

Sean walked up to the podium, and he stood there a moment before putting on his glasses and setting a couple of note cards and a manilla envelope on the podium.

"I wanted to make whatever kind of statement would best help the prosecution make the case for the death penalty. I believe it's warranted legally, and when you look at the atrocity that resulted from Mr. Sawyer's attempt to kill me, it would be hard to picture any other penalty that would be severe enough. But my opinion isn't the most important one here. My wife and my daughter can't speak for themselves, so I want to speak for them to the best of my ability."

"Julia didn't believe in the death penalty. She felt that it made us, as a society, no better than our killers. Whether we strapped someone into a chair and electrocuted them, pumped them full of poison gas, or injected them with lethal drugs. She felt all of it took us back to a time of barbarism and inhumanity."

"I wish I had asked Annie what she thought of capital punishment. It's not the kind of conversation I thought of having with my twelve-year-old daughter, but I think sometimes I sold her short on just how insightful and wise she was. And I never dreamed there'd be such a compelling reason in my life why I would need to know how she felt about it." Sean paused, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. "No father should ever need to know his little girl's opinion of the death penalty for any other reason than proof-reading a report for school," he said, his voice broken.

"Marlowe Sawyer wanted me dead. He arranged for my death. I can't tell you how many times I wished he'd succeeded, because if I could step into that inferno in place of my wife and daughter, I would do it, joyfully. If I could give Annie her life back, I would give mine without even thinking about it. But I can't do that. It doesn't matter how many statements I make, or whether or not Marlowe lives or dies. Annie and Julia will still be dead."

"I don't know what is a greater horror. To pick out a beautiful dress for your daughter to wear in her casket, or to have nothing but a box of ashes left of her." Sean swallowed hard, and opened the envelope he had on the podium. "Take a good look at this, Marlowe. I let you into my home, into our lives, you had access to my wife and my children, and this is what you did to them," he said, holding up the same autopsy photos the defense attorney had used to torment Sean on the stand. "This is what you wanted to do to me, and I believe you really wanted me dead. All because you didn't want me to repair my son's hands and give him his best chance at a normal, healthy childhood without the pain of ridicule and shunning, and the day to day difficulties of living with hands that don't function like everyone else's." Sean slapped the photos face down on the podium. Marlowe was crying now, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief provided by his lawyer.

"I'll never buy my daughter a prom dress, or see her in her wedding dress," Sean said, not caring if tears were rolling down his cheeks or not. He had to have his say to Marlowe, even if this was his only chance to do it. "You even robbed me of the macabre privilege of buying her one last pretty dress to be buried in. You tore my heart out and sentenced me to life. A lifetime of not having my daughter in my life. A lifetime of incomparable pain at every holiday, every birthday, every high school graduation I attend, every wedding I might go to. You even managed to do something so god-awful that the birth of my granddaughter was a moment of joy mixed with overpowering sadness, because Julia wasn't there to see her, and Annie would never be there to be her aunt. Every family milestone I go through will remind me of who isn't there. You didn't take my life, but you destroyed it when you took theirs."

"What you did to me isn't nearly as important as what you did to Julia and Annie. I agree with Christian - - I don't think you wanted them dead. I know you were in love with Julia, and you wanted to just slip in and take over my family. So I know you're paying with your own grief for inadvertently killing the woman you wanted to be with. I don't know if you deserve the death penalty after all. When the pain is piercing enough, death looks like a welcome relief. I know. Since this happened, I've sat with a gun to my head with the safety off and the only reason I didn't pull the trigger was because my son didn't deserve to lose two parents, and because my partner didn't deserve to find me with my brains all over the wall. Maybe it's better that you sit in a prison cell for years and years and years and think about what you did to an innocent woman and child - - that you get to share the nightmares I have of these images," he gestured with the photos. "Maybe death is too easy for you. Whatever sentence you end up with, I hope it inflicts on you even a tenth of the pain and anguish you brought into our family. Nothing our justice system can do to you will reverse what you've done. Even if I were granted my fantasy of being shut in a room with you for five minutes to exact my own justice, it wouldn't solve anything. In the end, they'd still be dead, and I wouldn't be the kind of man my daughter could see as her hero anymore."

"Your honor, I'm not going to ask you to do any particular thing with Marlowe Sawyer. I leave that to your wisdom. Because there's nothing that will bring Julia and Annie back to life, and that's the only ending to this that would give me closure. There will never be closure for this. There are some wounds that can never be adequately sutured; that gape and weep and fester for a lifetime."

Sean left the photos on the podium and returned to his seat. Christian put his arm around him, and Sean didn't really care about his composure or appearances at the moment. He completed the hug briefly, pulling himself together with a couple of difficult breaths, and another moment or two of Christian's hand running lightly across the back of his shoulders. He knew he had to pull himself together and somehow, he did, straightening in the seat and accepting the tissues Matt handed him that Kimber had hastily pulled from her purse and passed down for him. Christian's arm was still behind him, and he reached over and took Sean's hand, holding on tightly.

It was Marlowe's turn to address the court, and he did so from the defense table, reading a prepared statement.

"I know this will come as little consolation to the family, and probably won't be believed, but I never asked anyone to kill Sean McNamara, or any other member of his family. Sure, Jude and I sat around one night while we were drinking too much, and I vaguely remember complaining about the fact Sean wouldn't permit the kids to leave the country and Julia wouldn't leave without them, so our lives were on hold. I probably complained about his stance on doing a series of painful surgeries on his infant son. Our priorities and views of what was best for Conor were always at odds. I never thought it would be best for Conor to be an orphan. There are people throughout my life that I haven't seen eye to eye with, and they're all still alive. I'm not a murderer, and I think somewhere, deep down, even Dr. McNamara realizes that."

"I took Conor in a moment of desperation, and I regret that. Not only because those charges alone will cost me years in prison, but because it was wrong, and it was foolish. I just felt so strongly that without Julia there to care for and be an advocate for her son, he would have no chance of being who and what he was, that he'd go through whatever agonizing series of operations his father saw fit to make him perfect. I questioned if he'd accept it if Conor's hands weren't able to be made perfect. If the second hand was more complicated or not as successful as the first. How many surgeries would that baby have to endure?" He sighed. "But that wasn't my decision. I love Conor like I would love my own son, and that was my mistake, because he's not mine. Even if Julia and I had been together, and I'd been his stepfather, I never would have been his father. Unfortunately, it took this tragedy happening to make me see that. I realize I compounded the grief of Dr. McNamara and his family by engaging in this...misguided act at the worst possible time."

"I never would consciously request the murder of another human being. I don't know why Jude is saying that I masterminded this, or that I asked him to do it, or egged him on to do it. I wouldn't do a thing like that. I can't recall every world I said when I was drunk and unhappy, and I can't answer for what Jude thought he heard or misinterpreted when he was equally intoxicated. I don't think many of us can remember everything we say or do when we're in that state. I just know that I never intended for this to happen, and never asked for it to happen. As much as I clashed with Dr. McNamara, I didn't want to see him dead over it. There's a big difference between wanting to 'win' in a custody battle, or wanting someone to relent and not destroy your life or your chance at happiness, and seriously wanting them dead."

"I ask that the court show mercy on me in sentencing. I am truly sorry for any grief or heartache my actions caused. I took Conor because I loved him, not because I wanted to hurt him in any way. I did not order anyone's murder, and I hope to live long enough to prove that, for my sake, and for the sake of the family knowing the real reason behind their loss."

The judge announced that he would review the case and pass sentence the following morning. Matt, Kimber, and Liz came over to Sean's and Christian's place for dinner, which was take out Chinese picked up on the way home. Maria, who had been caring for the children while they were gone, was invited to eat with them. The group finished dinner and then sat in the family room with a couple of rented movies to help pass the evening. None of them were really engrossed in the plots, but it helped to be together, and to have something to distract them from dwelling on the day's hearing, or the sentencing that would be passed in the morning.

When their guests were gone, Sean and Christian checked on Conor. Even though he was sleeping soundly, Sean lingered by the crib, watching him.

"He's looking more like you everyday," Christian whispered, and Sean smiled. "He's okay, you know. We've got more nursery monitors here than we did at the other house. He can't burp without someone knowing about it," Christian quipped, resting his hand on Sean's shoulder so he knew it was said in good humor. Christian loved his godson, who was now his adopted son, and he was perfectly content with being able to monitor him from anywhere in the house.

"Ever since Marlowe took him, I keep thinking about how easily that can happen. We had nursery monitors then, too."

"No one's going to take Conor. We have a new security system with new passcodes, motion lights... He's safe, Sean."

"Help me not make his life miserable, overprotecting him because of losing Annie. Because I'm afraid of losing him."

"That's natural, sweetheart. But I'll keep you in check so you don't send the poor kid to school in a hazmat suit." He smiled when Sean laughed at that.

"When Annie was born, we were so busy. We were successful, but we were still working at hitting our stride. I don't know if I ever just watched her sleep when she was little. I missed so much."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You brought her into the world, Sean. I was there when you delivered her. You were so proud of her I had to remind you to let Julia hold her."

"She was an angel," Sean recalled, still watching Conor.

"I remember attending a lot of school plays with you and Julia. I remember you clearing your afternoon to go to a Princess Menses party. If that's not fatherly devotion, I don't know what is."

"I can't believe we actually put her through something so stupid," Sean said, chuckling. "Fortunately, she was less freaked out than we were."

"You were there for Annie, Sean. You were busy - - shit, show me any surgeon that has time to be there for every loose tooth and bedtime story, and I'll show you an unlicensed hack in a strip mall."

"I talked to Mogabi yesterday. He's agreed to do Conor's next surgery in late January. Am I right to go ahead with this?"

"I thought you were right to fix this for Conor all along. Not because of how he looks, but because of how much easier his life will be with two good hands." Christian put his arm around Sean. "Just like your life should have been easier, with your face fixed before you had to go to school and go through what you did."

"They wouldn't have had the money to do it then anyway," Sean said, sighing.

"Oh, bullshit. How many pro bono cleft palate surgeries have you done?"

"My father would have seen that as taking charity, that he couldn't provide for his family."

"That boy in the little league uniform? He was still a beautiful little kid, Sean. There was still a beautiful soul inside him. Just like Conor."

"Thanks, but I know how ugly I was."

"Is that what you thought? That you were ugly?"

"I was ugly, Christian. People stared at me every time I left the house. And then they nudged whoever they were with to be sure they got a look."

"I bet you were a sweet, good little kid."

"Is that really what you see when you look at that picture?"

"I look into that little boy's eyes and I see you looking back at me. Don't ever call him 'ugly'." Christian kissed Sean, then rested his forehead against Sean's. "Do you want to bring him into our room tonight?"

"He's comfortable and he's sleeping. I don't want to wake him."

"Wanna save water and share a shower?" Christian asked, flexing his eyebrows.

"When we share a shower, we use enough water for six people," Sean retorted, grinning.

"If you're worried about the environment, we can skip the shower and go right for the good stuff. You smell good right now."

"So do you." Sean pulled Christian close. "You smell like everything good in my life."

In the bedroom, they undressed and climbed into bed, meeting in the middle of the big mattress, kissing eagerly, wrapping around each other. There was still a trace of the spicy Szechuan seasonings from dinner in Christian's mouth as Sean slid his tongue inside to explore. His body was warm and smelled like faded expensive cologne and Christian. Sean clung to him, wanting that warmth and that familiar scent to seep into his pores, to be with him forever.

He reluctantly gave up kissing Christian's mouth to travel down his jaw, to kiss his neck and his chest, to lick and suck at his nipples and make him moan at the stimulation. He ran his hands over Christian's chest and shoulders, still in awe at times that Christian was his. The body that countless women had swooned over, been seduced by...it was his, and it reacted to him. Christian got hard for him, wanted him, and only him. Apparently sensing Sean was a man on a mission, Christian lay there and enjoyed himself, letting Sean take the lead, kissing and licking his way across every inch of Christian's chest and belly.

Sean's hand slipped down to cup Christian's balls, rolling them gently, his mouth pausing to nip at the edges of Christian's navel. He moved lower, nuzzling Christian's groin, kissing his balls, pointedly ignoring the semi-erect cock that begged for attention. Finally, he took Christian's cock in his mouth, working on it until it reached full hardness. When he released it, Christian groaned, momentarily disappointed, until Sean made the telltale reach for the night stand, retrieving the KY and a condom.

Christian grabbed him, apparently not worried if he delayed the sex a little. He kissed Sean, taking his time letting his tongue slide against Sean's, touching every part of him he could reach. He moved down from Sean's mouth to his neck, sucking on the skin there, creating a bright mark he secretly hoped would show. Sean was his, and he wanted to let the world know. He ran his hands possessively over Sean's body, cupping his ass, kneading the firm cheeks, licking Sean's nipples and rubbing his hard cock against Sean's as his fingertips traveled into Sean's crack.

"Roll on your back," Sean said, a little breathless. Sean loved the attention he was getting from Christian, but he had plans for his partner, and he wasn't going to be dissuaded.

He rolled the condom on Christian, then coated him with the lube. Reaching behind himself, he lubricated his hole with the gel, loving that Christian was watching the whole process with a hungry look in his eyes. Sean moved up a little, straddling Christian, before lining up Christian's cock with his slick center and lowering himself on it, taking Christian in as quickly as he could manage, spurred on by Christian arching his neck and back, mumbling a slightly inarticulate "Oh, shit" as he was drawn into Sean's body more rapidly than usual.

"Take it easy, sweetheart," Christian said, stroking Sean's thigh. The concern in his voice went straight to Sean's heart.

"I'm fine, Christian," Sean said, touching Christian's cheek. "Just lie back and enjoy the ride," he added, grinning. Sean began moving, alternating between moving back and forth, and up and down, fucking himself on Christian's cock, taking it faster and deeper than Christian would have given it to him. Part of the color in his face came from the heat of their sex, and part of it came from putting on such an intimate and blatant show for his partner. Not only was he giving Christian a hotter, more intense experience inside him, but he wasn't holding anything back in his expressions, the undulations of his body, or the little sounds that came involuntarily when a stroke was particularly deep or made an especially firm impact on his prostate. Christian's eyes were riveted on him, a look of desire on his face that made Sean feel like the sexiest man on the planet.

Christian reached out and grasped Sean's cock, stroking it in time with their shared thrusts. The dual sensations were too much, and Sean felt himself coming, glad to feel Christian thrusting upward into him, taking what he needed to reach his own climax, since Sean was too lost in the sensations to think through giving it to him.

Moving slowly, Sean let Christian slip free of his body. Christian was holding his arms out, then embracing his lover as if they'd been separated for years, not making love. Sean felt sore from the experience, but he didn't care. It would fade, and Christian had come like crazy, and gotten to satisfy himself with Sean in a way he probably would never chance if he were controlling the speed and the depth of the strokes.

"That was amazing," Christian gasped, smiling, so close to Sean that their noses were touching.

"Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it?" Sean agreed, smiling back, kissing Christian.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Christian asked, real concern in his eyes as he took Sean's face in his hands.

"I'm a little sore, but I'm okay. I wanted to do that for you," Sean added, kissing one of the hands near his face. There was no point in lying to Christian, since he knew Sean well enough to know if he was uncomfortable or not. It wasn't the pace or the position Sean would want every time, but it felt good to have given Christian something unexpected that he enjoyed so much.

"Watching you fuck yourself on my cock was probably the hottest thing I ever saw." He kissed Sean. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, still looking worried, wrapping Sean in a tight embrace.

"I'm fine, Christian. Just shut up and kiss me." Christian happily obliged, putting as much energy into loving Sean with his lips and hands as he had into the sex itself. It didn't matter that neither one of them were ready for another round. It wasn't foreplay for anything. It was just love, expressed in the kissing and holding that Sean found himself savoring so much.

"I love you," Christian said, kissing him again.

"I know. It's what keeps me going," Sean admitted. "I love you, too."

********

Sean had dozed on and off, but hadn't slept as soundly as Christian, who was snoring softly, spooned around him. They were a little too warm and both really needed a shower now, but Sean wouldn't have moved for the world. Since they were in college, Christian's body had always been a source of comfort, even when it was all just platonic. He couldn't count how many times a quick hug, some mock wrestling, a punch on the shoulder, or just being close to Christian had helped him make it through something he didn't think he could face. When he was truly in pain, Christian's arms around him had always made it better. Now was no different. Here in this shadowy room, with Christian around him like this, he felt as if he were drawing strength he could hold onto and use to get through the next day.

Losing Julia, and especially Annie, had made him afraid of losing the other people in his life he loved. That fear could become crippling very easily, almost more disabling than the grief itself. As if Christian sensed something bothering him, he stirred and tightened his grip on Sean, kissing his ear, since Christian was still mostly asleep and that was the closest thing he could reach.

Sean let himself drift, trying to set the fears aside and think about their lives together, and the good times the future would bring.

********

"Good morning," Christian's voice cut through the lingering haze, and Sean opened his eyes, smiling when he saw Christian crouched by the side of the bed, passing a mimosa back and forth under his nose like smelling salts. Sean leaned up on one elbow and took the glass. Christian took his from where he'd set it on the night stand and tapped it against Sean's.

"Nice way to wake up," Sean said after they'd each taken a drink from their glasses.

"This morning, I woke up with you naked in my arms. Now that's a nice way to wake up."

"It was a nice way to go to sleep, too," Sean replied, taking another drink.

"I drew us a bath. Come on and join me before it gets cold."

"A bath? Wow, that's luxury," Sean said, getting out of bed and following Christian into their bathroom. The morning sun streamed in the windows, and the sunken garden tub was filled with bubbles. "A bubble bath?"

"You're too much of a tough guy for a bubble bath, huh?" Christian teased, taking off his robe and tossing it aside. He stepped into the tub and stood there, waiting for Sean with his hand extended.

"If you will, I will." Sean took the extended hand and stepped into the tub. Both of them settled into comfortable positions down in the water.

"Maria's going to bring us a tray."

"In here?" Sean asked, stunned.

"The bubbles are covering anything she shouldn't see."

"It just seems kind of weird having her come in here when we're..."

"Both naked in the tub together?"

"Well, yes, and the bed's all messed up...there's probably come on the sheets."

"When we hired Maria, we made it clear we were looking for someone who was comfortable with our relationship, and she was. I'm sure she's laundered sheets with come on them since she's worked here, and she hasn't quit yet. Relax. Doesn't this feel good?"

"Yeah, it does. So does this." Sean pulled Christian close for a kiss. "Thanks for this."

"There's more where that came from. Turn around."

"What? Christian...I'm kind of sore this morning," Sean admitted, not wanting to bring it up, but not feeling ready to do it again so soon.

"I didn't mean it that way. I just want to give you a back rub."

"Oh, okay. Sorry." Sean turned around in the water so his back was to Christian.

"How sore are you, sweetheart?" Christian asked, his soapy hands washing and massaging Sean's back at the same time.

"Nothing serious. I just wasn't ready to...you know."

"If I hurt you, you'd tell me, right?"

"You wouldn't hurt me, and yes, I'd tell you." Sean closed his eyes and relaxed, the rubbing motion of Christian's hands on his back loosening up any tight muscles, and as they moved lower, easing any stiffness in his lower back.

Once Sean got over feeling ridiculous to be in a bubble bath, he started enjoying it. They washed each other, shampooed each other's hair, fooled around, splashed each other, and by the time Maria showed up with a tray, Sean could have cared less about appearances. With fresh fruit, yogurt dip, and granola bars, she had brought a selection of finger foods that would survive wet hands and not require too much formal attention to eating. She seemed amused by the whole thing, as if she were serving snacks to a couple of sloppy kids in a bathtub.

"Did you check on Conor?"

"Maria's on the case. But yes, I checked on him once last night while you were sleeping, and first thing this morning." He popped a cube of melon in Sean's mouth. Christian turned and situated himself in front of where Sean was sitting so he was between Sean's legs and able to lean back on his chest. "I'd like some fruit, please," he said, the back of his head against Sean's shoulder, gesturing with his hand toward the plate that was in Sean's reach.

"You want your grapes peeled first, or can you deal with the skins?" Sean responded, feeding Christian a juicy piece of pineapple. He sucked in the tip of Sean's finger with it before releasing it. Sean rested his hand lightly on Christian's wet hair, letting his fingers tangle in the strands. He fed him another piece of fruit, feeling like he could stay here all day.

"I really do love you, Sean."

"I know that," Sean said, thinking Christian's tone was kind of odd.

"Sometimes I worry that since we've never done it with me on the bottom, that you'll get the feeling it's because I don't love you enough."

"I don't have that feeling. And don't look now, buddy, but you were on the bottom last night. You might have had your cock up my ass, but I was running the show," Sean teased, and Christian laughed. Sean kissed the top of his head. "I'm not keeping score, and it never occurred to me that you didn't love me. We've been through this before. And now that we have Ashley - - she's the perfect woman for us to share and work out our aggressions on," he added, smiling. The rubber toy had only been brought out a couple more times since its purchase, but when it was, it was put to good use. Both agreed it was more fun as part of their shared sex life, which had taken away all the embarrassment and unease about using it.

"We finally found one that doesn't complicate our relationship," Christian added, and Sean laughed.

"It only took twenty-five years and a trip to an adult toy store, but better late than never." Sean wrapped his arms around Christian from behind, resting his head against his lover's. "I couldn't love you any more than I do, and I understand how you feel, and it's okay." He kissed Christian's temple. "I know you went through hell when you were growing up, and my only regret is that Quentin's dick was fake and I didn't have the chance to chop it off personally for what he did to you - - and that sick fuck who adopted you is already dead. If I feel angry or frustrated, it's not because I'm not sticking something in you. It's because you were hurt that badly and I couldn't stop it, can't fix it, can't even get back at the assholes who did it."

"I wonder how I overlooked you all that time I was looking for the right person to share my life with?" Christian asked, looking back at Sean, stroking the arm that crossed his chest.

"You were looking for big tits, remember?"

"That must be what threw me off," Christian responded, laughing. He relaxed against Sean again. It felt good to just be together for a while, to be silly, to share confidences. Sean was his lover, but he was still his best friend, the one person on Earth he could say anything to, no matter how dark or secret it was. "I thought maybe I was gay, like he said, and that's why I kept letting him...touch me, even when I was big enough to stop it. Then I realized I was just doing it for the money. Not much of an improvement."

"You were doing it because no one gave you the love you needed growing up, and for those awful minutes when he was abusing you, he was touching you, his body was close to you, and you had something he wanted. No little boy should go through life without someone to hold him, pick him up, play with him, and make him feel loved for the right reasons. If you wanted to feel like someone loved you, that's what you had to do for it. It wasn't the money, it wasn't fear, it wasn't even homosexuality." Sean stroked Christian's hair, resting his head against Christian's. "You needed to feel loved, and that was the price it came with. There's no price with me, Christian. I love you, just you, not something specific you do or for some way I can use you. There's nothing that's going to make me stop loving you, or make me feel any less lucky to have you in my life."

"Shit," Christian muttered, his body shaking. He turned and wrapped his arms around Sean, letting the tears come, feeling safe to let it out here, with Sean, with the only person who knew the whole story of his childhood, who'd heard his worst confessions about accepting money and gifts for services rendered, and saw through it. The only person who had ever looked so far into the darkness of his past that he truly understood something that Christian never fully understood himself until that moment: that a tall, strong, sixteen-year-old boy could actually let some dirty old man paw him and screw him because it was the closest thing to love he'd ever known, the only physical touching he ever experienced that was a sick parody of affection. That the gifts gave him something to delude himself with that he was loved. That he was important to someone. Maybe all the fancy cars and designer suits were just a vain attempt to fill that void that lingered into adulthood - - to prove to himself that he was worthwhile, that he mattered.

"It's okay, Christian. It's okay that it still hurts, and that it's still hard to think about. I want you to talk about it when you need to, whatever you need to talk about. I don't care how bad you think it is. It can't make me love you any less."

They sat there for a few minutes until Christian fell silent, and finally moved away from Sean, reaching up to wipe his eyes and then chuckling at the fact his hands were wetter than his face from being in the tub. Sean grabbed a couple napkins from the breakfast tray as Christian wiped his hands on a nearby towel. He took the napkins from Sean and wiped his nose and eyes.

"How did you know?" Christian looked at Sean, puzzled.

"Maybe it's because when I look at Conor, and how many times we pick him up or hold him, the way he reaches for us...and we're there, or if we're not, someone kind and trustworthy like Maria is. When you were Conor's age, and you reached out, who reached back?" Sean's own eyes filled, and he touched Christian's cheek. Christian took Sean's hand.

"All I know is that whenever I've reached out for the last twenty-five years, you've reached back."

"I always will. I promise," Sean said, leaning forward so they could kiss.

"Let's get dried off. There's something I want to show you." Christian stood to get out of the tub, and Sean followed him. After toweling off, they put on robes and went into the bedroom. Sean sat on the rumpled bed while Christian went to one of his drawers in the dresser and pulled out a small blue velvet box and an envelope. He returned to the bed and sat next to Sean. "I was going to wait until Christmas, but I don't want to wait anymore. I love you, Sean, and I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. I don't want to keep my options open anymore. You're the only option I want. I hope you like these, and I hope you'll be willing to wear one of them."

Christian opened the box he was holding, revealing two matching gold rings, each with four small, channel set square diamonds in the middle.

"You know I want to be with you, Christian. Of course, I want to wear your ring, and I want you wearing mine. I think they're great." He reached for the box, but Christian pulled it back.

"Open this first."

"Okay," Sean said, smiling as he opened the envelope. Inside were two plane tickets to Massachusetts for the week between Christmas and New Year's, and a reservation confirmation for an elegant inn there. "You want to go to Massachusetts over the holidays? Sounds nice," he said, looking at Christian.

"Same sex marriage is legal there, Sean. We don't have to just swap rings and make up some vows. We can go there and get legally married. I'm serious about this, and I don't want to do it halfway."

"You want to get married for real? To me?"

"No, to Ashley. Yes, I want to get married. To you," Christian added, smiling broadly.

"You mean I have to give up my bevy of lovers I'm keeping on the side?" Sean joked.

"All of them except Ashley. We may even take her on the honeymoon," Christian replied.

"Then she's going in your suitcase. There's no way in hell I'm taking a rubber ass through airport security."

"Yeah, she definitely goes in a checked bag. She's not a first-class date anyway."

********

As they sat in the courtroom waiting for the judge to render his verdict, Sean felt strangely at peace. It didn't matter what sentence was passed. Either way, the case was finally over, and this would be, presumably, his last day in court rehashing the tragedy that had consumed his life for the last several months. It would have tendrils woven through the rest of his days, but sitting there, knowing the case was nearly closed, looking forward to a romantic trip to get married, officially, during the holidays...he knew his life was going to go on, and that he wanted it to go on.

Judge Cavanaugh, a portly man in his fifties, balding with salt-and-pepper hair and a close-trimmed beard, entered, took his seat, and as everyone else sat down, set a small pair of reading glasses halfway down his nose to read his decision.

"There is nothing about this case that has been simple. We have multiple issues to consider, including the kidnaping of a baby, an attempted murder, the resulting and unplanned double homicide which equates to felony murder, the disregard for risk to human life and limb inherent in the manner in which the crime was perpetrated. The crime was the result, in part, of a misguided notion that it was somehow in Conor McNamara's best interest to 'rescue' him from an environment the defendant felt was harmful to him, and I do believe Mr. Sawyer's kidnaping of the child was rooted in that same belief. This leads me to a conundrum. Killing Dr. McNamara in order to take the express lane approach to a more agreeable custody arrangement is not excusable. The mistaken killing of Mrs. McNamara and an innocent twelve-year-old girl simply bears out the carelessness of planting explosives in an unoccupied car on a residential street and its potential to do unintended harm to the wrong people, or to more people than the intended target. On the other hand, the only witness who can conclusively testify to Mr. Sawyer's intent and guilt at the capital level is the man who admits he was intoxicated at the time, has confessed to setting the explosives himself, and who has negotiated for himself a life sentence with the possibility of parole after twenty years. He has a lot to gain from saying what he said. Whether all this was born of an intoxicated conversation that should have never gone farther, I'm not entirely sure. While the jury was convinced beyond a reasonable doubt, I still have a few lingering doubts myself, and with that being the case, I cannot in good conscience impose a death penalty on the defendant, because I don't believe the state has proven its case that he was responsible to a greater degree than his accomplice. Still, we are left with two innocent victims who lost their lives - - a double felony murder. Will the defendant please rise," he said.

Marlowe and his attorney stood. The judge read the sentences, one at a time, sentencing Marlowe to twenty years for kidnaping, fifteen years for attempted murder, thirty years on conspiracy to commit murder, and two life sentences for the felony murders of Annie and Julia.

Sean felt Christian's hand slipping into his, their fingers lacing. He held onto that warm support gratefully. It was hard to hear those charges and their resulting sentences read. It made it so real, so official...so horrible.

The judge banged his gavel, and just like that, it was over. Marlowe's family were devastated in one way, and relieved in another - - at least they had avoided the death penalty. Marlowe's lawyer was talking to him; it looked as if he were trying to reassure him. Sean figured they'd occupy their time with appeals for several years before accepting the sentence. It was shocking to see someone you knew, someone you may not have liked and yet trusted in your home, in shackles and on his way to life in prison. Still, he couldn't muster much sympathy for him, or for Jude.

After all, Annie and Julia didn't have an appeals process for their death sentences.

********

Christian found Sean sitting in a chair in the sunroom, an ominous pile of papers on the floor next to him. He was intently reading something, making a few notes in the margin. It was after ten in the morning on a Sunday, and he was still in his robe, unshaven, drinking orange juice as he tackled this dry-looking project.

"I missed you this morning," Christian said, leaning down to kiss his partner before taking a seat on the couch. The windows were open, and a comfortable breeze wafted in, carrying with it the sound and scent of the ocean. No wonder this was Sean's favorite room in the house. Also, it was missing Christmas decorations, and inasmuch as Sean had coped with all that for Conor's sake, Christian wasn't fooled into thinking he was enjoying the signs of the season.

"Stan sent these over while the trial was still going on. I just didn't have the energy to look at them then."

"What are they?"

"Stan solicited proposals for me from some non-profits for the Ann and Julia McNamara Foundation. This one isn't a proposal, but some research and suggestions for a direction I have in mind for the foundation." Sean paused. "I want us to provide college scholarships, funding for vocational training, and counseling services for children who are long-term survivors of the foster care system. I didn't have a clue how to set that up, so Stan found an expert in the field to outline a possible structure for making grants."

Christian didn't say anything, he just stared at Sean a moment, speechless.

"I can't go back and undo what you went through when you were a child, Christian, but it makes me want to at least help some kids who have gone through something similar get going in the right direction. Kids who are in foster care long-term often don't finish school or don't go on to college, they might need counseling but can't afford it. Even setting aside three million of the insurance money for the foundation, we can't change the world. But hopefully we can do some good."

"There are so many other causes, Sean. There must be something else you want to do."

"I look at all these proposals for scholarships and naming buildings, and none of it makes any kind of emotional connection. Annie wasn't ready to decide what she wanted to do with her life - - she was only twelve. There was a proposal in here to name some research lab at the University of Miami for Julia. I can hear her now. 'Great, a living memorial to the medical degree I didn't get.' And she'd be right."

"You really want to use the money this way?" Christian asked, his voice a little rough.

"I know three million dollars can't reform the foster care system, and I wouldn't even try to do that. We know that it's going to keep producing damaged kids who have gone through awful things and then are left with no support system to make good lives for themselves. Maybe this can bail a few of them out, and give them a chance. So, are you willing to be Chairman of my Board?" Sean asked.

"I don't understand. It's your foundation - - don't you want to be the chairman of it?"

"It's Julia's and Annie's foundation, and you know more about the work we'll be doing than I do. Besides, we're going to work on it together. Someone has to be the chairman, and someone has to be the treasurer...I've always been the financial nitpicker at the office, so I might as well put my skills to good use here."

"I don't know what to say," Christian said, clearing his throat.

"Say yes, and then I can put all this stuff away and we can go outside and play with Conor."

"I'd love to do it, Sean. You know I want to be involved in whatever you do with the foundation, but this...I never expected anything like this."

"I know," Sean smiled, reaching toward Christian, who grasped his hand and held onto it. "All the time we were away from the practice this year cost us, so part of the money is going into a fund to replenish our coffers at McNamara/Troy, and to provide us a slush fund for other times when we lose significant income, like we'll be doing again in January when we do Conor's surgery and you and I are each working part-time and caring for Conor part-time. Some of the money can be used for renovations or expansion - - as needed," Sean added, making it clear by his tone that there would be no frivolous or outlandish projects funded by that money. "And the rest is going into a trust fund to pay for Conor's college education. There'll be enough for him to go ivy league, if he wants."

"Your inner accountant has been busy this morning."

"It needed to be done, and I finally feel like I have the brains to do it."

"This is a hard season," Christian said, meaning it for himself as well as for Sean. For so many years, some part of Christmas had included the extended McNamara-Troy clan. It still did, but Julia's and Annie's absence was felt so keenly that family gatherings were sometimes more painful than no gathering at all.

"I don't want Conor to feel that. It's so important to me that he doesn't grow up feeling like he's living in the shadow of grief and loss."

"I'm sure he doesn't feel that. You were great with him decorating the tree the other day. I know how painful that was."

"I keep telling myself if I can live through one set of everything, it'll get easier. One Thanksgiving, one Christmas, Annie's birthday, Julia's birthday, our anniversary. The anniversary of their deaths." Sean leaned back in the chair. "I wonder if it'll be any easier."

"I think so," Christian said. "Never easy, but easier."

"Maybe," Sean said, smiling faintly. "Part of me just wants Christmas over with. The other part doesn't want to deprive Conor of having the same joy and fun and magic that we always tried to give Matt and Annie when they were little. I just don't know how, as he gets older, to keep up that front for him."

"Your grief is what it is, Sean. It's part of you, and Conor needs to understand that as he grows up. He had a mother and sister who aren't here anymore, and while you're going on with your life, and we're together and making a family for Conor, there are going to be times you can't hide it from him, and you shouldn't. Otherwise, you're never going to really let Conor know you."

"See, you're smart, that's why I want you to be Chairman," Sean quipped, nudging Christian with his foot.

********

The accommodations Christian had arranged in Massachusetts for their four-night stay were in a renovated Tudor-style mansion, with rich oak woodwork, high ceilinged rooms, a spectacular open staircase in the foyer bedecked with pine and red bows for the holidays, and lavish guest rooms with historic charm. The grounds were equally beautiful, the trees and shrubs in the garden coated with snow and ice, the rolling lawn blanketed with a white, diamond-studded covering.

Christmas gifts had been mostly consisted of sweaters, shirts, coats, gloves, and other winter gear they would need for their trip. They arrived on a Monday, early in the afternoon, and settled into their suite, which featured a sleeping area with a king-size brass bed covered in soft down quilts, a small dining table and two chairs, a sofa, a fireplace, and a television. There was an adjoining bathroom that still had its original claw foot tub, in addition to a more modern shower enclosed behind a door to preserve the historic charm of the bathroom.

There were only two other rooms booked prior to New Year's Eve according to the owner who checked them in at the front desk, so they could look forward to quite a bit of privacy during their stay.

"What do you say we go out and play in the snow?" Christian suggested, anxious to get outside in the weather that was so different from Florida. He didn't think he'd want to deal with a whole winter of the white stuff, but right now, it was beckoning him.

"Here I thought you'd want to get a fire going and try this out," Sean sat on the bed, bouncing on it a little.

"Let's go outside first, and then come back in and warm up." He sat on the bed next to Sean. "Come on, when's the last time you built a snowman?"

"Never," Sean responded.

"You've never been out in the snow?"

"No. Julia and I always took the kids to warm places, when we did go anywhere. We didn't visit Erica in New York in the Winter - - we usually went in the Fall, and sometimes I didn't go at all depending on the business. My folks really couldn't afford vacations that far away. I suppose you've been to snowy climates."

"Not often. I've been to Tahoe a couple times, and that trip to Aspen with those guys in college when you decided to stay home and study instead," Christian replied. "Come on, let me take your snow virginity," Christian joked, flexing his eyebrows, and Sean laughed.

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" Sean stood and pulled the gloves out of the pockets of the stadium jacket he was wearing, pulling them on his hands while Christian did the same.

"This garden looks like something out of a painting," Sean said, stopping just outside the patio door of the inn, as they stood on the slightly slippery stone patio overlooking the snowy grounds. The wind wasn't too strong, but gave them the occasional gust just to remind them how cold it actually was, and to swirl the snow a bit. As if on cue, a few flurries began falling. Sean put up his hood and seemed to sink deeper into his coat. "It's beautiful," he added.

Christian took Sean's gloved hand in his, though they really couldn't feel much of each other through the fabric. Still, if he was going to watch his partner experience snow for the first time, he thought they should be holding hands for the occasion. As they walked farther into the wintry scene, Christian paused.

"Take off your glove," he said, and Sean looked at him like he was nuts. "You can't feel the snow through a glove."

"I also can't operate with frostbite."

"You won't get frostbite from touching the snow, Sean," Christian said, chuckling. "Trust me." Christian took off his own glove to prove the point, and Sean followed suit. Christian crouched near the ground, and tugged on Sean's coat to get him in the same position. He tossed back his hood, letting the light snow fall on his head, catching in his hair. He tugged Sean's hood back as well, so his partner could feel the feather light touches of the snowflakes, blinking as they caught in his lashes.

Christian reached out and pressed his hand into the snow, leaving a fuzzy-edged hand print there. Sean skimmed the surface of the snow with his hand, and Christian delighted in watching him test the texture and the temperature of it, then take a handful of it and squeeze it in his hand before dropping it.

"Wow," Sean said, laughing a little. "Kind of like shaved ice in a margarita, or a dry Slurpee."

"Maybe we should have brought glasses and tequila out here," Christian joked. "I can't believe you never touched snow before."

"I've never been in a cold climate state in the Wintertime," Sean said, shrugging. He wiped his hand on his jacket, then blew into it to warm it up.

"That's my job." Christian tugged off his gloves and took Sean's cold hand in both of his, blowing warm breath on it, warming it up with the skin-on-skin conact. "I bet your mouth is cold out here, too," he said, leaning in for a kiss. He pulled Sean with him until he fell back in the snow with Sean on top of him. His coat and hood kept him protected enough from the snow, and the mixture of the cold air, snow, and the warmth of Sean's mouth on his was exquisite enough that he probably would have lain there in the snow naked if that's what it took.

"You were going to teach me how to make a snowman?" Sean reminded him, still lying on top of him in the snow.

"I'm not exactly an expert. I think I've made two in my life."

"That's two more than I ever made, so show me your stuff."

"It's way too cold out here for that, but back in the room, you've got a deal." He rolled them over so Sean was in the snow. Sean's nose and cheeks were getting pink, and he looked more carefree and happy than Christian had seen him look since before the explosion. He took off his glove so he could touch Sean's face. "I love you more than anyone ought to love another human being."

"I don't think there are parameters for that," Sean said, smiling, freeing his hand from his glove and returning the touch, caressing Christian's cheek. "If I can't find words for it, then it doesn't have any boundaries."

They put off their snowman project a few more seconds, taking time for a few more kisses before getting up and finding a good spot to build their snowman. After laboriously rolling the giant snowball that was the base, and hoisting the next two progressively smaller snowballs into place, Sean stood back from their creation, panting a little, wiping his nose on the back of his glove.

"Why in hell does anyone do this for fun?" he asked, looking at Christian, who just laughed.

"Maybe you have to live in a place like this to get it."

"You said it was fun. You lied to me, Christian," Sean said flatly, the dry humor coming through in his voice.

"We need to give him a face."

"Holy shit, I'm on vacation. I don't want to give a goddamned snowman a new face. I do that all week at the practice."

"Shut up and pick up a few of those pine cones. I never would have brought you up here if I'd known you were having PMS this week."

"Asshole," Sean muttered, looking back at Christian with a little grin. Christian returned it as he went to gather, and break off, a couple of necessary branches for the creature's arms.

Ever the cranial-facial surgeon of the pair, Sean broke a pine cone in half and stuck the pieces in the face to make eyes, and then put a whole pine cone where the nose should be. Muttering something unsavory under his breath, he broke up more pine cones to make a mouth. Meanwhile, Christian stuck in branches for arms. He found an especially large pine cone and just as Sean completed the mouth, stuck it on the snowman's lower regions, giving him a prickly brown erection.

Sean started laughing at that, shaking his head. Backing up, they took in the horror of what they had created, and laughed harder. Christian pulled the digital camera out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the ugly thing, before making Sean pose with it. Instead of standing next to it, Sean knelt in front of it and pretended to give it head on its pine cone dick, which sent Christian into a fit of laughter that made it hard for him to steady the camera. Inspired, Christian handed Sean the camera and moved over by the snowman, opening his fly, stroking his cock with one hand while he held onto the snowman's with the other.

"You're sick," Sean said, laughing and snapping the picture. Christian quickly zipped up, belatedly looking around to make sure they were out of view of the inn. He reached down and yanked the snowman's pine cone dick out of place, smoothing over the site. "The next gender reassignment we take on is yours," Sean joked. "The last one I did took hours," he added, laughing until the tears were pooling in his eyes.

"It's just like tearing off a bandage - - do it fast enough and the patient'll never know it's gone," Christian replied, tossing the cone over his shoulder.

Tucking the digital camera safely in his pocket, Sean reached down and made a large snowball in his hands.

"Come on, Mr. Winter Wonderland. I'll wait until you're armed," Sean said, packing his snowball carefully.

"How do you know how to make snowballs?"

"I'm a fast study, and I have seen snow on television before - - I know what it is, I just haven't been out in it. Come on, unless you're scared."

"Scared? You think I'm scared of you and your little pussy snowball?"

"I see a whole lot of talk and not much action," Sean goaded, raising his eyebrows.

"I'll make you eat those words later," Christian replied.

"Unless I see some balls made out of snow, you aren't going to see any other balls later."

"Now you've done it," Christian said, mock anger in his voice as he furiously formed a large snowball. They backed away from each other a bit, and before Christian knew what was coming, a large snowball hit him dead center in the chest. "Asshole!" he threw his snowball, smacking Sean's shoulder.

"Do they have a firing range for these? You need practice!" Sean challenged, making another snowball and throwing it, as Christian rose to throw his.

"Loser has to give the winner a blow job!" Christian hollered, throwing another snowball that smacked Sean upside the head.

"Is that a penalty or a prize?" Sean hollered back as their battle continued.

"Does it matter as long as somebody gets blown?" Christian fired another one Sean ducked, barely missing it as he fired another snowball at Christian, their shots getting wilder and less precise the more fun they were having. The object now was more to throw snow around and trade banter rather than to hit each other with the snowballs.

Red-faced and out of breath, their coats splotched with melting snow, hair dusted with the snow that was falling, they declared a truce, and trudged through the snow back toward the inn. By the time they got back up to their room, both were ready to warm up a little. They shed their wet coats and boots, and Sean started a fire in the fireplace while Christian made a pot of coffee in the room's coffee maker.

"That feels good," Christian said, enjoying the sensation as Sean toweled off his hair as he sat on the couch near the fireplace. Christian looked up at Sean, who had a towel draped over his damp head. "Shit, you look like a nun," he joked.

"And now you look like a porcupine," Sean teased back, tossing the towel in Christian's lap as he turned his attention to toweling off his own hair. The drying job had left Christian looking more than a little spiky on top. He sat on the couch next to Christian, picking up the cup of coffee Christian had left on the end table for him.

"So, you think we should move to a cold climate?"

"I think we'll stick with our house by the beach," Sean replied, chuckling. "I had fun today," he said, moving under the arm Christian put around his shoulders.

"Me, too. I guess I never realized you'd never been out in the snow before. Why didn't you come with me for that ski trip in college? Let me tell you, that lodge was amazing - - all the luxuries you could ask for, including hot and cold running co-ed pussy."                                            

"I couldn't afford it, Christian. Where would I have gotten the money to go to Aspen over Christmas break?"

"I would have paid for you to go. Do you really think it was half as much fun as it would have been if you'd come with me?"

"That was over twenty years ago, Christian. What difference does it make now?"

"I'm sorry I was such a dense asshole. I should have known. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I was on scholarships, loans, and had a work study job in the biology lab in my spare time. How would I come up with that kind of money? Besides, those guys were all loaded - - I wouldn't have fit in with that crowd the way you did."

"Even then, the whole trip didn't feel right without you. I was really glad to see you when we got back. I fit in with them all right, but the whole time I was gone, I kept realizing that I didn't really have anybody to talk to. Not about anything that mattered. There weren't any long conversations about the meaning of life at three in the morning with the moron I was rooming with." Christian ran his fingers into Sean's hair.

"Quit worrying about some stupid trip twenty years ago. I didn't blame you for wanting to go, and I knew if I brought up money, you'd pay my way, but I didn't really know those guys, and then you'd feel obligated to hang out with me because you brought me along."

"You think I would have chosen those dumb shits over you?" Christian kissed the side of Sean's head.

"No, and I didn't want you to have to. I wanted you to go have fun."

"I'm having fun now."

"It could all be official in the next day or so, if we can get the waiver to skip the three-day wait," Sean said, smiling. "I really like that idea."

"I think traveling here from Florida and being in love for twenty-five years but too stupid to do anything about it until now ought to qualify us to skip an additional waiting period. I checked with the inn, and they can accommodate us if we get delayed and have to stay longer. Gee, that'd be awful, trapped here in a romantic inn with you, a fireplace, and a bed for an extra day or so."

"The library downstairs is a really nice spot for the ceremony. The view is great."

"I think you can see our snowman from the window," Christian joked, and Sean laughed.

"Our witness, huh?"

"Yeah, well, after I ripped his dick off, he might not be too amenable to the idea," Christian replied. "Are you sorry we didn't bring anyone from home with us to be witnesses?"

"No. I like the idea of it being just between us. We've been on this journey for so long together that it seems right somehow that we take this step on our own. I know this might sound odd, but not having anyone here makes it easier not to dwell on who isn't here anymore."

"It doesn't sound weird." Christian squeezed Sean a little. "Milestones, even the good ones, still hurt when people you love aren't there to share them. This way, it's just you and me, not another family gathering with empty seats at the table."

"I can't believe I'm looking forward to spending the next couple of days at the courthouse pushing papers around and signing documents."

"You know what they say - - love makes fools of us all. I just want to get my hands on that certificate that says it's legal. We're going to frame that baby in some obscenely overpriced, oversized, matted frame right in the foyer with our wedding picture. What do you think?"

"What wedding picture?"

"I hired a professional photographer. Just because it's only us doesn't mean we shouldn't have pictures. I want a portrait."

"I didn't know you did that," Sean said, smiling.

"I'm finally marrying the love of my life, and you don't think I want a big, in-your-face wedding picture hanging on our wall at home?"

"I just didn't expect it," Sean said, feeling a lump in his throat, for a happy reason. "I'm glad you did that."

"Not half as glad as I am that we're doing this. So, what are we going to do to celebrate the wedding night, I wonder?" Christian queried.

"Probably the same thing we do to celebrate most anything. We just have to figure out the position and the surface," Sean joked, grinning. Christian snorted a laugh at that.

"There's a nice little seafood place a few miles from here - - we passed it on the way here from the airport."

"Seafood sounds good," Sean agreed. "If I buy you dinner, do you think I'll get lucky later?"

"I can virtually guarantee it."

********

It was snowing again as Sean navigated the rental car toward the restaurant. He was glad it was just a few miles, since he had as much experience driving on slippery roads as he did making snowmen. Christian really didn't have any winter driving experience, either, so the more conservative driver of the two won the toss for getting them safely back and forth.

They enjoyed a tasty lobster dinner, and a leisurely visit over a good bottle of wine. It seemed so easy with Christian - - they always had something to talk about, and silence wasn't awkward. Sean couldn't remember how many times in his life he'd ended up drinking much more than he even wanted because sipping your wine was a great way to fill in a torturous dead zone in a conversation.

"The only thing I think I'll miss about this climate when we go home is that you look really good in turtlenecks and cable knit sweaters," Sean said, figuring he should voice that thought, since he'd been enjoying the view of Christian in his black turtleneck and rich burgundy sweater.

"I'm glad you like it, because this turtleneck feels like slow, cashmere strangulation."

"I'll help you out of it as soon as we get back to the inn," Sean said, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"I'll give Kimber credit for one thing - - she picked out good colors for you," Christian referred to Sean's blue shirt beneath the navy shawl collar cardigan he wore. "She always did have good taste in men's clothes." Kimber and Matt had given them both winter clothes for Christmas to use on their trip.

"Do you think there's a prayer of Matt making it with her in the long term?" Sean asked.

"To be honest, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop in that relationship. Either Matt gets sick of touching base with the mother ship for every move they make, or Kimber rediscovers her inner porn star and dumps him to go back to her old life."

"I suppose it's overly optimistic to think they could make it work. I'd just like to see Matt happy, and Jenna have a stable home."

"There's not much we can do about Matt - - he's a big boy and it's his turn to make his own stupid decisions. As for Jenna, we'll always be there for her, so she'll have a stable life one way or another."

"Do you mind if I give Maria a call, see how Conor is?" Sean took out his cell phone.

"If you call now, he might still be up, huh?" Christian teased. "It's okay, Sean. I miss him, too."

Sean smiled at that and dialed the number. They were indeed early enough to both talk to their son on the phone before Maria put him to bed. Comfortable that she had everything under control, they finished their meal off with a shared dessert before heading back to the inn. The weather wasn't getting any better, and both were relieved to pull into the parking area and make their way inside, dusted with the steadily falling snow.

While Sean went into the bathroom, Christian rekindled the fire and started unpacking a few of their things into the dresser. Even four nights could get tedious digging through the suitcase for everything they needed, so he put the essentials away and zipped up the mostly empty suitcase, setting it in the corner. Frowning, he realized Sean had been in the bathroom a long time. He went to the door and had his knuckle poised to tap on it when he heard the water running, but also heard another sound that had become too painfully familiar in the last several months since the explosion. He tapped on the door.

"Sean, is it okay if I come in? You don't need to run the water, sweetheart. I can hear you."

The water stopped, and a moment later, Sean walked out in his robe, looking a little sheepish as he wiped at his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't want to spoil everything."

"You couldn't do that if you tried," Christian said, pulling him into a hug.

"I just miss her," he said brokenly. "She would have had so much fun with the snow. I should have made sure we took the kids somewhere like this so she could experience it."

"You didn't experience it yourself until today, so don't beat yourself up because you didn't happen to take your kids out in the snow when they were little." Christian patted his back gently, feeling sad in one way, and glad in another that Sean was letting out a few more tears, getting a little of the pain out of his system. "I know you miss her, Sean. I do, too."

"Sometimes when I think about it, it's still too horrible," Sean admitted, pulling back a little. "I try not to think about it too much, but sometimes I can't help it."

"Come on, I've got a pretty decent fire going." Christian steered them over to the couch, and they sat down close to each other, Christian keeping his arm around Sean.

"This is supposed to be a happy occasion," he said, letting his head droop on Christian's shoulder. "This should be one of the happiest times of our lives."

"It is," Christian said, nudging Sean's chin up so he could kiss him. "The grief and the loss are part of us, Sean. We can't change that. It's not your fault if you need to get some of that pain out once in a while. That doesn't mean we aren't happy to be together, or glad to get married." Christian sighed. "Maybe we're putting a little too much pressure on you. First the move into the new house, then the trial, the holidays, and now this trip to get married. All of it puts this pressure on you to be strong and hold in your grief and look happy. I'll tell you, the way you handled Christmas was a case study in grief management."

"Conor's old enough now to pick up on what's going on around him, and it was Jenna's first Christmas. I don't want those kids growing up feeling the pall of death in every special occasion."

"They won't. I couldn't believe you. You were on the floor opening presents with Conor, playing with Jenna, bugging me to make sure I got all the important stuff on video... Hell, you comforted Matt when he broke down, and you made the whole thing about everybody else but yourself. Your mom would be really proud of you - - remember when you told me how she consoled everyone else when your grandmother died, even though it was such a huge loss for her? That's what you did, Sean. Even Thanksgiving, you handled it all so well, and I know that every moment of both of those holidays ripped your heart out."

"I couldn't do it without you," Sean admitted, sliding his arm around Christian's middle, tightening their embrace. "Getting married to you isn't putting any pressure on me. It's the one thing I want most. And I love our house. I don't think I could have handled living in the old house much longer. I had to get out of there. It's not any one thing that's hard. It's everything that's hard. Sometimes, just existing is hard."

"Grief is a merciless bitch, isn't it?" Christian said gently, rubbing Sean's back. "Don't feel like you're spoiling something for me, or that you have to hide. If you want to be alone sometimes, I'll respect that, but anytime you'd rather be with me than by yourself in the john with the water running, come find me."

"I never have to look very far. You're always here when I need you."

********

The romance of getting married definitely outlasted the romance of paperwork. After spending the morning filling out forms, making sure they had all the necessary documents to back them up, and then making their request for the waiver of the three-day waiting period, they found themselves sitting in a waiting room for the judge who would have to hear and approve their request. If all went well, they were having their ceremony the next day - - New Year's Eve - - at the inn. If not, the photographer and the innkeepers had agreed to a contingency plan for when they had the license.

"This is beginning to make the paperwork look like fun," Christian said to Sean, after they'd been sitting there almost two hours. "You think they're putting us off because we're a same sex couple?"

"I think it's bureaucracy, Christian. It's one of the few things in our society that tortures everyone equally."

"I'd rather be back at the inn with you and that bottle of maple syrup," Christian said.

"Let's not talk about that until we can do something about it," Sean replied, referring to their lengthy, leisurely early morning lovemaking, prominently featuring the bottle of syrup that was on the tray with their waffles.

"I'd almost forgotten what a good lube butter can be," he whispered against Sean's ear.

"Asshole," Sean muttered, grinning. "I'm not going in to see a judge with a hard-on."

"Maybe it would be a more compelling reason to waive the waiting period. I could say I won't have sex with you until we're married, and you're in obvious physical distress."

"If you could get that explanation out with a straight face, it would be almost worth seeing."

"You smell good." Christian purposely gave Sean's neck a quick nuzzle. "You're wearing that new cologne I got you for Christmas."

"Guilty as charged," Sean replied, laughing a little at Christian's blatant sniff. By now, the receptionist was starting to get a little intrigued with them, and she smiled when Christian caught her watching their exchange. They were the only ones in the judge's waiting room.

"I hope you get your waiver," she said. "If you don't mind my saying, you're really sweet together."

"Thanks, Sandra," Christian said, noticing the name plate on her desk. "We've been in love for twenty-five years and just got around to figuring out this was where we were headed, so I hope the judge doesn't make us wait any longer."

"I don't understand - - you've been a couple all those years?"

"We met in college, went through med school together, and started a practice together," Sean explained. "We've always been inseparable, but we convinced ourselves we didn't love each other 'that way'," he said, making quote marks with his fingers.

"The upside of that is we have a grown son together, and a toddler son we're raising together, and a granddaughter," Christian bragged, smiling proudly.

"It sounds like you've waited long enough to be together," she said. "Do you have pictures?"

"I do," Sean said, pulling out his wallet.

"Hold that thought," Christian quipped. Sean just smiled as he located the most recent photos of their family. He walked over to the desk and started showing Sandra the photos.

"This is our son, Matt. He's married now and this is his daughter, Jenna," he said, moving on to the next photo.

"Too bad your son's married," she said. "He's cute. Oh, and she's adorable!" she gushed over Jenna's picture.

"This is my daughter, Annie," Sean said, fighting the lump in his throat.

"How old is she?"

"She was twelve when that was taken. She died a little less than a year ago."

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks. Me, too," he added, smiling a bit sadly. "This is our son, Conor. He's about 17 months old now."

"Oh, he's so cute. He looks just like you. Your other son looks more like...?"

"Christian," Christian spoke up. "He's Sean."

"Your oldest looks a lot like you," she said to Christian.

"That makes sense. Christian is Matt's biological father, and I'm Conor's."

"You have a great family," she said, as Sean put the wallet away and went back to sit by Christian.

"Thanks, we think so," Christian said. "You're single, Sandra?" he asked, based on her comment about Matt.

"Just haven't found the right guy yet. There is this really cute ADA I've got my eye on, though."

"ADA?" Sean asked.

"Assistant District Attorney. He's new here, but it seems kind of cheesy to use that whole 'let me show you around' line."

"Invite him to join you and some friends - - men and women - - to do something," Christian said. "He won't feel like a deer in your headlights that way. Just make sure the other girls in the group are less attractive than you are or already hooked up," he added.

"This is advice from the expert operator," Sean needled.

"That's a great idea. I can ask him to join us for a happy hour or something."

"If you're lucky, you'll have a happy hour or two after you leave the bar," Christian joked.

"You're bad," she said, shaking her head.

"You don't know the half of it," Sean said, enjoying the fact that Christian was giving out dating advice, and not showing a bit of interest in charming the attractive young woman himself.

After more than two hours waiting, they were finally given the opportunity to see the judge in her chambers. An older woman with carefully styled and most likely dyed blonde hair and glasses, she looked over the paperwork they had brought with them.

"There are a few questions I need to ask you for the record. You are both over eighteen?"

"Considerably," Sean responded.

"Yes," Christian added.

"Okay. And neither of you are presently married or involved in any other civil union?"

Both replied "no."

"You aren't blood relatives, are you?" she asked, looking over her glasses at them.

"No," both replied, almost in unison.

"We have to ask," she said, smiling. "Your reason for requesting the waiver?"

"Sean's been the other half of me for the last twenty-five years, and I don't want to wait three more days to marry him," Christian said, taking Sean's hand in his. "We'd like to get married tomorrow night, New Year's Eve."

"Everything seems to be in order, gentlemen," she said. "Your waiver is granted. I hope you have many happy years together."

********

"It's almost time," Sean said, putting on his suit coat and looking at himself in the mirror. Their dark suits and white shirts were accented with red bow ties and red rose boutenieres.

"Nervous?" Christian asked, turning away from the window where he'd been watching the snow piling up outside.

"About getting married? No, it's the most at peace I've felt in a long time. Now the snowstorm out there is another story. They said on the news we might get a foot of snow." Sean joined Christian at the window.

"Why does that make you nervous?" Christian asked, sliding his arm around Sean's shoulders.

"We could be stranded here quite a while if we get one of those legendary New England blizzards, and we do have patients on the schedule - -"

"If we get snowed in, we'll have nothing to do but make love. I didn't bring much in the way of books," he added. "Maybe you'll find you like this white stuff when you get used to it."

"Sounds like you're trying to get me to snort a few lines," Sean quipped.

"You know, if we moved to Massachusetts, our marriage would be legally binding here."

"It's legally binding, and it's binding to us, that's what matters. We're about as legally entangled as two people can get," he added. "The house, our assets, our wills...most importantly, Conor."

"We could be plastic surgeons to all those rich Boston blue bloods."

"You'd really want to relocate here?"

"I don't know. I just like the idea of the place we live respecting our rights as a couple."

"Our family's in Miami. I don't want to miss out on watching Jenna grow up, or to be that far away from Matt, as long as he wants us to be part of his life." Sean smiled. "I love that you'd want to move to make the marriage more binding. Christian, the only way I'll ever leave you is feet first, and even then, I won't be happy about it."

"I don't even like to think about that."

"There's no reason we have to. All I mean is that I love the idea of getting married, but even if it never happened and you never wanted to make a commitment to me, I'd still be here."

"You never demanded anything from me. You just loved me, and you let me be myself and figure out what I wanted." He touched Sean's cheek lightly.

"I love you, Christian. Making you change into something you're not, making you put on fronts for me...I never wanted that. I want you."

"You've got me, forever."

"You ready to put your money where your mouth is and say it in front of our Justice of the Peace?"

"As soon as we get that phone call from the lobby that he's here, I'm all yours."

It wasn't long before they got the call that their Justice had arrived and was ready to perform their ceremony. When they went downstairs, the innkeeper, a stout and pleasant middle-aged woman, greeted them in the foyer.

"The library is all ready for you, and your Justice is waiting in there. We're having a little New Year's Eve party tonight for our guests - - we'd love the chance to toast you two if you wouldn't mind joining us. It's mostly couples here for our New Year's package. We have two pairs of honeymooners who were married over Christmas. One of our couples are two young men from New York who came here to get married, just like you two."

"That sounds nice," Christian said, and Sean agreed. "We wouldn't mind being toasted, since our family is back in Miami."

"The party starts in the ballroom at nine and will last until at least one, or as late as our guests stay up! We have a band. They'll be playing mostly old standards, but they know a few up-tempo things, too."

"Thanks for telling us about it. We'll be there," Sean said.

The library was an elegant, oak paneled room with a fireplace, rich leather furniture, and a stunning view of the rolling grounds and steadily falling snow. There were pine boughs on the mantel threaded with softly glowing gold lights. Their Justice of the Peace was an elderly man with white hair and glasses, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. A young woman they assumed was their photographer was seated near the fireplace, her camera equipment next to her chair.

"You must be Dr. Troy and Dr. McNamara," he greeted, shaking hands with both of them. "I'm Frederick Simmons," he added.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Simmons," Sean said.

"Sorry we made you both come out here in such awful weather," Christian added. "You must be Chelsea," he said, as the photographer stood and shook hands with him.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Dr. Troy. You must be Dr. McNamara," she said, shaking hands with Sean.

"Why don't you call us Sean and Christian?" he suggested. "You're part of one of the most personal moments of our lives, so I don't think we need to be so formal."

"Can we put you up over night? We'd be glad to pay for your rooms if the weather is too hazardous for traveling," Christian offered.

"That's a very gracious offer. My son is planning to pick me up. He said he'd call me if the roads become impassible, so I may have to take you up on it."

"My daughter is with my mom, and I have a date tonight, so unless we're buried, I need to get home, but thanks," Chelsea replied, smiling.

"You have your marriage license?" Mr. Simmons asked.

"Right here," Christian said, removing the license from its envelope and handing it to him.

"By the fireplace would probably be best for the pictures," Chelsea said, guiding the three men to the best angle for them to stand for the ceremony. "The other option is by the tree," she said, referencing the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

"I like the fireplace," Sean said, and Christian agreed.

When everyone was in position, Mr. Simmons began the ceremony. Sean reached out toward Christian with both hands, and Christian took them with a smile.

"We are here today to join Christian and Sean in marriage. Their journey has been a long one, and their love has grown over the years from the powerful bond of a devoted friendship to the kind of love that has led them to make this commitment to each other. I think you've both waited long enough for this moment, so let's get right to the good part," he added, and both of them laughed. "You may go ahead with your vows."

"I, Christian, take you, Sean, to be my beloved life partner. I will hold you, honor you, treasure you, and be by your side in sickness and health, in joy and sorrow, good times or bad, and I'll cherish you and every moment we have together. I'll love our children and our granchildren and share with you all the joys and challenges that come with them. I won't say the 'til death do us part line, since I won't stop loving you because of some stupid shit like death," he added, and Sean laughed, even though he had tears in his eyes. The line was so like Christian that it touched him more than any other words could have. "Whatever's beyond this life, I want to spend that with you, too."

"I, Sean, take you, Christian, to be with me always, as the other half of myself. You've been my life partner all these years, through so much." Sean swallowed, resolving that he wouldn't let his emotions get in the way now. "I promise to be by your side in sickness and health, joy and sorrow, good times and bad. I'll love you with everything I am, and I'll be there for you whenever you need me. I'll always respect you as an equal parent to Conor, and be with you through whatever our children or grandchildren throw at us," he added, smiling, and Christian returned it. "You're my oldest and dearest friend, and I promise that I won't forget that part of us, the part that laughs together, cries together, shares the deepest secrets of our souls. And if you're offering me a commitment beyond this life, I accept, because whatever comes next, I don't want to be there if I can't be with you."

"You have rings?" Mr. Simmons prompted.

Sean pulled the box out of his pocket, opening the top to reveal the two gold wedding rings.

"Christian, repeat after me," Mr. Simmons said, waiting until Christian had Sean's ring in hand, and then took Sean's left hand in his. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed." Christian slid the ring on Sean's finger, then leaned down and kissed it. "I love you," he said, unable to not say it. Sean caressed his cheek lightly.

"I love you, too," he said with a soft smile.

"Sean, repeat after me," Mr. Simmons said, smiling a little at their unscripted interaction. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said, sliding the ring on Christian's finger. He mirrored Christian's gesture of kissing the hand he'd just placed the ring on.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you married." He paused. "You may kiss to seal your vows," he stated.

Their embrace was spontaneous and intense, their kiss passionate and intimate as they lingered and savored the significance of the moment. For that few seconds, no one else in the room, or the world, existed. Separating felt like spiraling back down to Earth from some higher, more beautiful place.

"Congratulations to you both," Mr. Simmons said, smiling as he signed and dated their marriage license.

"Oh, what the hell," Christian said, grabbing Sean, totally surprising him, dipping him like a professional dancer and kissing him again, not sure if Sean was holding onto him so tightly in passion or in fear of being dropped on the floor. Given the healthy dose of tongue he was getting, he decided to assume it was passion. When he let Sean up for air, he laughed.

"Prick," he muttered under his breath.

"Now, honey, is that any way to talk to someone you just promised to love forever?"

"Sure it is. We've been using words like that as love names since college," Sean replied, and Christian laughed, putting his arm around Sean's shoulders, pulling him close against his side as Sean's arm came up around his waist. Chelsea was furiously taking photos.

"You two are official. Be sure to file this at the clerk's office after the holiday so your marriage is recorded," Mr. Simmons said, handing them the marriage license.

"Thank you," Sean said. "That was a really nice ceremony," he added, shaking hands with the older man.

"I've married a lot of couples in my career, but there are a few that I always remember when I think of why I'm still doing this at seventy-six," he said. "You two will be one of those couples."

"That means a lot," Christian said. "We're serious about the room - - if it's too rough out there, just tell Mrs. Carter to put it on our tab," he said, referring to the innkeeper.

"I'll check with my son. I'll leave you folks to get your pictures taken."

After he left, Chelsea took a few posed photos in the library, and also suggested taking a few outdoors on the back patio, which the groundskeeper had cleared enough that afternoon that they were able to trudge through the snow to get a couple of nice poses with the well-lit grounds and falling snow in the background. They took a couple photos on the staircase before the photographer packed her supplies and headed out into the storm, determined to brave the elements to get home to her daughter, and then her date.

It was seven o'clock when they found themselves alone, married, and with two hours to kill before the party.

"We could call home, and then find something to occupy our time until nine," Sean said as they headed upstairs toward their room.

"Or ten, or whatever," Christian added.

"We could wait until after the party, build in a little anticipation," Sean suggested.

"That was a joke, right?" Christian asked as he unlocked their room.

"Pretty much," Sean responded, grinning as they went inside.

"I'm so in love with you right now that I don't want to wait another minute to feel your body against mine," Christian said, backing Sean up to the wall, kissing him.

Without wasting anymore time on conversation, they began undressing each other, sending pieces of clothing in various directions. They climbed into the king size bed, enjoying the warmth of the covers as the wind whistled outside, sending a slight chill through the rooms of the historic mansion. Christian lay on his back as Sean took his time kissing every inch of him, lingering on sensitive spots like his nipples, before moving lower.

He pushed the covers aside so he had better access, urging Christian to spread his legs. Christian was torn between closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of Sean's lips leaving wet kisses on his thighs and his balls, and watching him as he nuzzled Christian's growing erection lovingly, stroking it against his cheek, kissing it, teasing Christian and loving him at the same time.

"Make love to me," Christian said, not expecting the words to come out.

"I'm doing my best, my love," Sean said, seeming as if he were lost in what he was doing, too focused on Christian's body to hear his words.

"I want to feel you inside me, Sean."

Sean stopped, raising his head with an expression of hope and concern. "You don't have to do that because of the wedding," he said gently.

"I know. Maybe that's why I want to do it. And I want to do it like this, face to face."

Sean didn't say anything else right then. He urged Christian to bend his knees, moving lower so he could kiss the tender skin behind his balls, then tease the edges of his center with little kisses and flicks of his tongue. He retrieved the lube from the night stand drawer and putting some on his finger, gently eased it into Christian, rotating it, taking his time spreading the gel and getting Christian used to the feeling of something moving inside him that wasn't going to hurt him.

"Relax, Christian. It's only me," he said gently, looking into Christian's eyes. "I love every part of you." While his finger was taking its time, he kissed Christian's thighs, stroked his hip, and as he slid a second finger inside, engulfed Christian's cock in his mouth. He stroked Christian's prostate, prepared for him to arch up at the stimulation. Knowing the twin sensations of sucking him and putting gentle pressure on his prostate was going to bring him to the edge quickly, Sean kept it up until Christian urged him to stop.

"If you keep that up, I'm gonna come right now."

"You'll be more relaxed that way," Sean said.

"I want to come while you're inside me."

"Your wish is my command," Sean replied, smiling and planting a little kiss on Christian's cock before coating himself with the gel. Christian moved his legs up, giving Sean easier access. As Sean entered him, he felt that familiar stretching bordering on burning, but Sean was moving slowly, and he forced himself to focus on who was with him, to watch Sean and concentrate on the beautiful vows they'd exchanged, and on what it meant to let Sean in this way. To not hold him at arm's length in bed when Sean freely offered all he had to Christian without reservation.

He had to trust Sean to travel into a part of his sexuality that was damaged, and to lead the part of him that was still afraid to face those old demons to face them head on, and slay them.

Sean stroked Christian's cock, distracting him from tensing up so much. Christian knew what that pressure felt like when you couldn't move, and he loved Sean that much more for the unhurried way he was stroking him, for the hand that slid up his stomach and to his nipples, rubbing over them and pinching them.

As if he read Christian's thoughts, Sean leaned forward and kissed him. They were still joined, but all Sean was demanding from him were kisses. He moved from Christian's mouth to his cheeks, to his neck. And then he moved just a bit, and Christian was ready. Sean knew he was ready, instinctively, without being told. His strokes were slow and gentle, and Sean's hand was back on his cock, moving in rhythm with their lovemaking.

Sean looked as if he were in paradise, watching Christian with a mixture of love and awe, closing his eyes once in a while and giving himself over to the pleasure, a smile spreading across his features that was soon interrupted by surprise when Christian thrust up a little to start meeting his movements. Christian knew it couldn't be the best sex for Sean - - it was choppy, slow, and a little tentative - - but he'd never seen Sean look quite so enraptured before.

Sean leaned forward, apparently unwilling to continue making love without feeling that emotional connection of kissing, of having more of his body than just his cock touching Christian. He stroked Christian's hair, letting his hand linger on the side of Christian's face. Christian took the hand in his and held it, feeling security in that contact, reassurance that he was loved, that this was about love, that it was Sean...that an old demon was seriously wounded, if not dead yet.

Their climax was almost simultaneous, as Sean's body couldn't hold out any longer and he started to come, Christian's undoing was the sight of Sean coming, the sound of his gasps of pleasure as he came inside Christian. When it was over, Sean didn't pull out right away. He leaned in for more kisses, saying an emotional "I love you" against Christian's mouth before kissing him again.

Sean held onto Christian's thighs, gently easing out of him and guiding his legs down to the bed again. He stretched out on his back and urged Christian to move into his arms, resting his head on Sean's chest. Somehow, he knew that Christian needed that feeling of being held and sheltered, a reminder of how loved he was now, and how far away the past was. One of Sean's hands was lightly stroking his hair, the other was rubbing up and down his back slowly, soothing him and making him feel safe.

He wanted to tell Sean it had been good, that he was happy, that he loved him, but the words wouldn't come. So he didn't worry about it, because Sean knew all the words, and all the love Christian needed to feel was in the hands that touched him with such love, and in the steady beat of Sean's heart beneath his ear. As he let himself drift, he felt nothing but joy at knowing he could plan on spending the rest of his life loved this intensely, loved for himself, touched because he was loved, and treasured by someone who would always hold his trust and his secrets with the gentle hands that knowingly caressed and comforted him as only Sean could.

********

"I found cocoa mix," Sean said, returning to bed with two steaming cups, handing one to Christian before tossing on the floor the blanket he'd wrapped around himself to keep warm. Propped up on the generous pile of pillows, they huddled together under the comforter, sipping their hot drinks.

"It's after nine. You want to go downstairs for the party?" Christian asked.

"They start serving a buffet of hot appetizers at ten. I could eat."

"Wonder if it's still snowing," Christian said, though he didn't sound overly concerned whether it was or not.

"This has been the most special night of my life," Sean said, looking into Christian's eyes.

"Mine, too." Christian leaned over to share cocoa-flavored kisses.

"It was beautiful being with you that way," Sean said, touching his forehead to Christian's.

"It was beautiful for me, too," Christian said. "You're beautiful."

"We're beautiful together," Sean concluded, smiling.

"Yeah, we are. I would have traveled anywhere in the world to marry you," Christian said, looking and sounding amused. Sean smiled.

"What?"

"It's funny when you think about it. For most of my life I've avoided making a commitment. Even when I almost got married to Kimber, it was complicated and troubled and I was nervous about it. And the whole thing with Michelle was just an infatuation and a mistake. But I'd have gone anywhere, dealt with any conditions, done whatever I had to do to marry you, and felt nothing but joy in seeing that ring on your finger and knowing you're all mine."

"When I said you didn't have to make any commitments to me, I meant it. I would have loved you and been with you no matter what. But when you showed me our rings that morning at home and the plane tickets... I didn't even realize how much I wanted this until then."

"You deserved to have it sooner than this."

"I wouldn't change anything about us, Christian. We took our time and got here when we were meant to, and it feels right."

********

It was after ten when they went upstairs to the third floor ballroom, having gotten dressed in suits and shirts, left open at the neck. The New Year's Eve gathering wasn't billed as "black tie," and given the weather, it was bound to be a more informal gathering than a sparkling society event requiring haute couture.

The large room was decorated festively with colored lights, and pine and red bows adorning the chandeliers. There was indeed a band playing, with a pretty good singer. About twenty people milled around, eating from the hot buffet, enjoying the open bar that was tended by the innkeeper, Mr. Carter, a tall, heavyset man in his fifties with receding gray hair and a booming laugh that almost drowned out the band on occasion. Most of the guests wore dresses or suits, but the attire was more relaxed than that for a large, formal party.

"I'm so glad you made it," Mrs. Carter said, approaching them with a broad smile. "I wanted to toast our newlyweds - - we have two other couples who were just married over the holidays - - but I didn't want to disturb you. After all, you two are our newest newlyweds," she added, giving them a knowing look.

"It sounded like a great party and we didn't want to miss it," Sean said, smiling, a little uncomfortable that they seemed to have "freshly screwed" stamped on their foreheads.

"Find yourselves a seat and help yourselves to the food. And watch out for Marty's drinks - - he doesn't measure and he has a heavy-handed pour," she added.

"Thanks for the warning," Christian replied, just as relieved as Sean when she went on her way to mingle with her other guests. "Did you give me a hickey I haven't noticed?" he asked Sean, who laughed.

"I gave you several, but none that show with your clothes on."

The seating area, with several small tables for four, was near the buffet, and at the opposite end of the room from the band, where the floor was left clear for dancing. A few couples were out there, and Christian noticed the other male couple right away. They were both tall, nice looking men in their twenties, one blond with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, and the other dark-haired and clean shaven. They were definitely physical contrasts, but judging by the way they were slow dancing, opposites definitely did attract.

"I'm kind of jealous of them," Christian said, as Sean was eyeing the buffet with its chicken and beef satays, meatballs, stuffed mushrooms, egg rolls, cheese enchiladas, hot wings, and other similar gastric nightmares. There were also healthier choices like vegetables and dip, a vegetable pizza, cheese and crackers, and smoked salmon.

"Who?" Sean looked up, clearly more fascinated with the food at the moment than the other male couple. Christian just smiled at that, not having seen naked lust in Sean's eyes directed at food since before the explosion. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I could eat a horse," Christian admitted, smiling, joining Sean in filling a plate with an array of unhealthy food choices. After all, it was New Year's Eve and their wedding night. If that didn't give them an excuse to forget healthy eating, nothing would. "I meant those young guys. I'm jealous of the extra time they have together, the fact they have it all figured out so young."

"We don't know they have it all figured out with each other. They're in love now, but that might not last. I hope it does for their sakes, but being in love on your wedding night and being in love when your partner's face looks like...what was it you called it? A purple basketball? Are two different things."

"Or being in love with him when his meatballs meet his hot wings and champagne at three in the morning. I wouldn't mix the hot wings with the meatballs." Taking care of Sean while he spent the wee hours of the morning throwing up wasn't his idea of a great way to celebrate the new year. "You remember the frat party we went to senior year?"

"If I get sick during the night, I promise I'll roll the other way before I throw up," Sean assured, adding both items to his plate. "And don't talk about that party while I'm eating."

"Okay," Christian replied, chuckling and giving up as he put a couple more egg rolls on the edge of his plate. "You want to get us some champagne? I'll take our plates," Christian said.

"Sure." Sean handed off his plate and went to the bar to get them their drinks while Christian found them an empty table. There were a few other couples at the tables, nibbling at the food and talking, holding hands, or just sipping their champagne. "Champagne," Sean announced as he sat down at the table with Christian. "I'm starved. I guess we forgot about eating since lunch," he said.

"I was too busy thinking about getting married to think about food," Christian said, taking Sean's hand, squeezing a little.

They were quiet a few minutes while they replenished their energy with some food. Christian put one end of a miniature egg roll in his mouth and nudged Sean. His partner looked up and snorted a laugh.

"If that's supposed to be sexy, guess again," he teased.

"It was an invitation," he mumbled around the egg roll. Then he made it wiggle up and down. Sean leaned forward and put his mouth around the exposed end of the egg roll and took a bite, letting his lips linger on Christian's for a moment before pulling back.

"It was kind of sexy, then," Sean conceded, smiling.

"Mind if we join you?" It was the blond half of the other male couple at the party. "Jeff's getting four champagnes - - you guys look like you're almost out."

"Please, sit down," Christian said, and their guest accepted happily.

"I'm Brandon."

"I'm Sean, this is Christian."

"Everybody's been really nice here, but I'm kind of feeling like it would be nice to hang out with our own kind for a while."

"I have champagne," the dark-haired half of the couple said, setting the four glasses down on the table.

"Thanks for the refills," Christian said.

"This is Sean and...Christopher," Brandon recapped for his partner.

"Christian," Christian corrected with a smile.

"Sorry. I have a short-term memory issue. I was lucky to get the Sean part right," he joked, but Jeff didn't share the laugh with him.

"Brandon suffered a head injury in a gay bashing incident six months ago," he said. "He almost died."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I had to change my hairstyle and everything," Brandon joked, pulling up the hair that hung over his forehead to reveal a jagged scar just under his hairline.

"Lean forward. The light's not the best in here," Sean said, and puzzled, Brandon obeyed. "We're plastic surgeons," Sean explained belatedly, seeing his confusion. "I think we could minimize this a lot for you," he added, tracing the scar carefully with his thumb. "I'm guessing they just stitched it up in the hospital. You didn't see a plastic surgeon for it?"

"My HMO doesn't cover plastic surgery," he said. "I appreciate the thought, but it took us a while to even save up for this weekend, so until I start selling my paintings, I'll just comb my hair over it."

"The injury affected your short-term memory?" Christian asked.

"I was unconscious for three days. There was bleeding and swelling on the brain. I'm just grateful I can still paint, and it was my left arm that was broken and not my right. I still get some headaches that are like mega-migraines. If they're really bad, Jeff has to stay home with me. I guess he wouldn't have to, but the pain is kind of scary and it helps sometimes if he holds my head."

"It's hard to believe that barbaric shit is still going on in a civilized society," Christian said.

"I guess I kind of had that utopian view of the world, too. I thought if we just went about our lives, minded our own business, that the worst that would happen is we'd get a few condemning

stares for kissing in public," Jeff said.

"This probably isn't the most cheerful New Year's Eve small talk," Brandon said. "'Hi, can we join you, and let me tell you about getting my head bashed in!' Sorry. We're usually better conversationalists than that."

"How did it happen, if you don't mind my asking?" Sean asked.

"We had dinner at this bar and grill not far from where I work. I'm a server at a nightclub, and I was going into work. Jeff and I had dinner, and I decided to walk to the club. It was a nice night, and I get sick of being cooped up inside all the time. Jeff went home, and I started down the street for the club. I guess they saw us inside, or maybe saw us kiss goodnight outside when we parted company."

"They weren't caught?" Christian asked.

"No. I didn't get a good look at them, and it happened so fast it was like a blur. Besides, I think the blow to the head must have been pretty early on in the attack, because I don't remember much more than somebody jumping me and pulling me into the bushes, and then it's a blur. There have been a couple other incidents in that area - - I didn't know that at the time. They didn't rob me, and I heard a couple of gay slurs before lights out, so I knew what it was about, even then."

"On a happier subject, how did you two meet?" Sean asked, and Jeff looked grateful for the subject change.

"In college. Brandon was studying art, and I was getting my degree in education. I teach high school history and government."

"I'm a starving artist," Brandon added. "I've sold a couple things at art fairs, but no big break yet."

"I didn't think I was gay," Jeff said, laughing. "I had a girlfriend at the time I met Brandon, but he just...enchanted me, I guess." He took Brandon's hand in his. "His art's really exceptional, and so is he."

"We ended up in the same science class to fulfill some of our basic requirements, and we started hanging out together. I thought he was gorgeous right off, but I knew he was straight and had a girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, you took care of that, didn't you?" Jeff said teasingly, leaning over to kiss his partner. "How about you two?"

"We met in college, too," Sean said.

"You're either late bloomers or you had a long engagement," Brandon quipped.

"I married him for his charm and tact," Jeff added.

"We were best friends and partners for twenty-five years," Sean explained, smiling. "Christian dated a lot of women, I was married for almost twenty of those years... Then I was almost killed in a freak highway accident, and it just jolted us into realizing how we felt, and that we were sick of avoiding it. So here we are."

"A few more things happened in between, but Sean's cutting to the happy ending," Christian said. "Neither one of us ever dated a guy before we got together with each other."

"God, that's refreshing to hear. I thought I was the only one who changed teams."

"Most of our friends are gay or bi, so he feels a little outnumbered sometimes," Brandon said.

"I think this calls for a toast," Jeff said. "To overcoming all the obstacles we've all had to face to get together, and to be celebrating New Year's Eve as married couples."

"I'll drink to that," Christian agreed, and all four clinked glasses.

"You two looked pretty good on the dance floor," Sean said.

"We take ballroom dancing lessons together. At first I thought it was a little weird," Jeff admitted, but Brandon really wanted to try it, so I went along with it. But it's turned out to be fun."

"You get to spend time together, sweat, and touch each other a lot. If you're lucky, you'll even learn a few dance steps," Brandon added, grinning wickedly. "The dance lessons turn me on. The sex afterwards is explosive."

"Can't argue with that," Jeff said, laughing. "When we were learning some of the Latin dances, it was a toss-up where the most gyrating was going on."

"It was a good incentive to work on my memory problems," Brandon said. "I have trouble with retaining new information, and my whole learning process is kind of screwed up because of it. Between Jeff wearing me out with memory exercises and the dance lessons, it's helped a lot. Even though I can't remember your names right now."

"I'm Sean, he's Christian," Sean said. "It's okay. We're doctors, we understand how that works."

"I remember you looking at my scar, so I remembered the doctor part."

"We'll take care of that for you, pro bono," Christian volunteered. "Give you a good excuse to take a winter trip to Miami."

"Are you serious?" Brandon asked, looking stunned.

"We like to do some surgeries for people who need help with a scar or other disfigurement issues who don't have the means to pay for plastic surgery. Think of it as a wedding present," Sean said.

"Maybe we could do it over spring break," Jeff said. "I have a week off from teaching, and it would give us time to set aside the money for the trip."

"Make your flight reservations," Sean said. "We'll take care of the accommodations in Miami. The surgery won't be that major, so even after recovery, you should still have time to enjoy a little vacation time together."

"That's too much. The surgery is...so much for you to offer to do for us," Brandon said. "The lodging and everything - - we can't take that from you."

"You aren't going to take it from us. In return, you're going to do an original painting for our office suite," Christian said.

"You haven't even seen my work," Brandon said, confused.

"If it's too ugly, we'll hang it in the ladies' room where we never have to see it," Christian quipped, and Jeff laughed out loud at that.

"I guess a sale's a sale, buddy," he said, nudging Brandon. "Seriously, I don't know what to say. 'Thank you' is kind of inadequate. It's driven me crazy the last few months to not be able to get that scar fixed for him. It doesn't change anything for me, but it's a constant reminder for him." Jeff paused, taking in a deep breath. "There's another scar - - "

"Jeff, don't." Brandon put his hand on Jeff's arm. "I don't..."

"Brandon, if there's something else you need help with, this would be the time to ask. If we have you under to take care of the scar on your head, it would be a simple matter to take care of something else at the same time," Christian said.

"I can't show it to you here. They carved something into my lower back. I was already unconscious, so I didn't even know it until afterwards, in the hospital." For the first time, Brandon's cheerful demeanor had wavered, and was blinking away moisture in his eyes.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that at the very least, we can improve how it looks now," Sean said, squeezing Brandon's arm, moved by the pain in his eyes. He wasn't much older than Matt, and it wasn't fair for him to go through life scarred because of someone else's hate. He already had to endure the memory loss and what sounded like crippling headaches, but he didn't have to be branded in his flesh like some kind of farm animal.

"You offered to fix a scar on my forehead, not repair my whole lower back. I can't ask all that of you for nothing in return."

"You aren't asking, we're offering. Besides, there's something I want from you," Sean said. At Brandon's puzzled expression, he said, "Show me how to waltz."

"What?"

"Show me how to waltz," Sean repeated. "I'm awful. My ex-wife gave up on teaching me. I didn't even dance at my own wedding."

"He's not that bad," Christian said.

"Slow dancing doesn't count. I mean, real dancing where you have to actually move and not step on your partner's feet. Tomorrow, come by our room - - well, not too early - - but stop by our room and we'll take a look at the scars on your back and figure out if we can do it all in one surgery, and what kind of results we can achieve."

"Well, then, let's go out on the dance floor and evaluate how much work you need done," Brandon said to Sean, who laughed.

"Direct hit," Christian replied, snickering.

While Brandon and Sean headed for the dance floor, Christian and Jeff went to the buffet to restock the table with hot food.

"Brandon's got a great attitude about everything he's been through," Christian said as they each filled two plates, one each for themselves and one each for their partners.

"I think it was harder for me to get my attitude on track than it was for him. The pain and the recovery was hardest for him, but dealing with the whole thing...I don't think I've dealt with it yet. I just want to find those motherfuckers and pound their skulls in until their brains are pureed and soak into the sidewalk." He paused. "Sorry. I guess it's obvious I've fantasized about it once or twice."

"If someone did that to Sean, I don't know what I'd do. Especially if there was no one to do it to."

"Leaves you with a lot of pent up hostility, that much I can tell you. There were times I blew up at Brandon when I really wanted to go after the assholes who hurt him." Jeff paused to watch Sean and Brandon on the dance floor. "He does need help with waltzing, doesn't he?"

"Hey, that's my partner you're talking about," Christian said, with mock anger. "I think he's convinced he's not a good dancer, so it'll take some work to get him over that."

"Brandon's leading," Jeff observed. "Typical pushy little bottom that he is," he added, smiling affectionately. "That was probably more than you wanted to know."

"You mean you're having sex with him? I thought you were just good friends," Christian quipped as they returned to the table with the food.

"Yeah, we're just sharing expenses on this trip. I'll get us more champagne. It's getting closer to midnight, and we can't be without the bubbly."

While Jeff was getting the drinks, Sean and Brandon returned to the table.

"How'd he do?" Christian asked.

"I wouldn't sign him up for Dancing with the Stars just yet, but if you know how to waltz, he'll know how to follow you. Just don't go too fast. He's a beginner."

"Sounds like what I told him the first time we had sex," Sean said, and Brandon almost choked on the meatball he'd eaten, clearing his throat and drinking the last of the leftover champagne before Jeff returned with the fresh stuff.

"Does that mean I just took your waltz virginity?" Brandon asked, still laughing.

"No, my ex-wife suffered that indignity when she tried to teach me in time for a wedding reception we were going to. She gave up faster than you did," Sean added. "You're a good teacher, Brandon. Your directions were very logical and methodical. You and Jeff must have worked very hard on your memory and your ability to put new step-by-step directions together."

"He's a born teacher, so he's determined I'm going to learn things if it kills us both. Yeah, mainly it's information like names and dates and appointments - - I have sticky notes all over the apartment for things. But learning is hard and takes a lot of repetition and drilling, because otherwise, I don't retain it. He's got a ton of patience with me."

"He loves you," Christian said, taking Sean's hand.

"Champagne for everybody," Jeff announced, returning with four more glasses.

"This food is awesome," Brandon said, eating another meatball. "I hope they've got plenty of food on hand, because I think everybody's going to be staying another day or two. The snow's still piling up. We're in the middle of a genuine New England blizzard."

"They're expecting me back at school the day after New Year's," Jeff said, sounding worried.

"Honey, calm down, it's an act of God. Just because your asshole principal doesn't like you being with me doesn't mean he can fire you because we got snowed in on our honeymoon." Brandon sighed. "We had to contend with all that bullshit, too, because when I got hurt, the tight-ass Catholic school he teaches for wanted to fire him because he was gay."

"I'm not gay."

"Oh, all right, because you were a straight man lured off the path of righteousness by a predatory queer," Brandon amended.

"That's not what I meant."

"You just traveled to another state to marry a man. Everyone calls that gay. Live with it."

"I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, but if you weren't here, I wouldn't be with another guy. I wouldn't ever be with anyone else of either gender." Jeff put his arm along the back of Brandon's chair and kissed his temple. "I realized that when you got hurt. If you hadn't pulled through, that would have been it for me with anyone else."

"Good answer," Brandon conceded, pausing to kiss Jeff. "But I'd want you to be happy, you know that."

"You're my happiness, baby. Just you."

"Everybody's having a good time here?" Mrs. Carter asked, her bubbliness a welcome distraction from the heavy turn their conversation had taken. "I hope you aren't taking refuge over here together. We're delighted to have all our newlyweds with us," she said, resting her hands on Brandon's and Sean's shoulders, and she stood between where the two men were seated. "We're going to be toasting you all right before midnight."

"We're having a great time, and we've made new friends," Jeff said. "Your other guests have all been very courteous. We've felt welcome."

"I'm so glad. After midnight, we're changing over to a dessert buffet, so save some room."

"Hey, we'll be here. The food's awesome," Brandon said.

"Good! Keep on enjoying."

"I think you should show me what Brandon taught you on the dance floor," Christian said to Sean, standing.

"I'm no Fred Astaire, Christian. I'll probably step on your feet."

"Sean, you're not going to step on his feet, because you're going to follow his lead, remember? And you're going to quit telling everyone what a rotten dancer you are and just have some fun out there. The more nervous you are, the more likely you are to screw up. Just relax - - the world won't end if you step on his foot."

"Okay, coach, I get it," Sean responded, laughing.

"Pushy, just like I told you," Jeff mumbled, giving Christian a knowing look.

Once they were on the dance floor, which they shared with a few other couples, it didn't seem so difficult to Sean to remember the basics Brandon had shown him. Christian wasn't moving fast, but he was trying to lead Sean in a slow waltz.

"I'm not dangling you over a cliff, Sean. Relax, sweetheart," Christian said with a smile in his voice.

"Sorry," Sean loosened his hold a little, smiling self-consciously.

"We dance together every time we make love. We're just doing it upright with our clothes on," Christian whispered against Sean's ear. "Just move with me and trust me like you do there."

Sean looked into Christian's eyes, letting those words sink in, and he seemed to forget about his feet. They moved with the motion of Christian's body against his, and though he felt a little fumble a time or two, it wasn't long before they were moving together pretty smoothly.

"I requested this song for us, sweetheart," Christian whispered in Sean's ear as a new song began.

More than the greatest love the world has known

This is the love I give to you alone

More than the simple words I try to say

I only live to love you more each day

"Maybe love is the best dance teacher," Sean said, stealing a kiss.

Longer than always is a long, long time

But far beyond forever you'll be mine

I know I never lived before

And my heart is very sure

No one else will love you more

"I don't care how smooth your footwork is, Sean. I just want you to dance with me for the rest of our lives."

As the song ended, they kissed, and neither one cared who was watching, who else was there, what they might think, or even if other music was playing. When their lips parted, they walked hand in hand off the dance floor, back to their table, smiling when they realized neither Jeff nor Brandon even noticed them, since they were in a liplock of their own.

"Those corny old songs have some great lyrics," Brandon said, still forehead-to-forehead with Jeff.

"Can't argue with that," Sean said, touching Christian's face. "I love you."

"I hope they do their toasting and bring out the dessert pretty soon, because I think I'm ready for some alone time with you," Christian whispered to Sean, though Brandon and Jeff were still too enraptured with each other to listen to what they were saying.

"But the sex can wait until after dessert?" Sean teased, smiling.

"Since we don't have to choose either/or, I think I could use a little food foreplay with you."

Their innkeepers did toast their three newlywed couples as promised, and midnight was ushered in with noisemakers and party hats, and a lot of kissing. The band played Auld Lang Syne, and the champagne flowed while the hosts and their small staff set up the dessert buffet for their guests.

The dessert course was delicious and decadent, and they relished the romance of feeding each other, and the comfort of being in the presence of another male couple who were as obviously in love as they were. By the end of the dessert experience, all four of them were passing around the carcasses of their varying selections of tortes, mousse, and other confections, trying anything they'd missed.

Full, uplifted by the spirit of the New Year's celebration, and ready to be alone with their partners, the two couples parted company for the night and went to their rooms.

********

Christian was sound asleep yet, blissfully unaware of being watched. He was lying on his stomach, one arm under his pillow, one leg drawn up a bit. The smooth, perfect expanse of his back tapered down to his equally beautiful ass and his strong legs. It was warm in the room from the fire they'd started in the fireplace several hours earlier, when they first came in from the party, and Christian had kicked the blankets mostly off himself. Unable to avoid touching him any longer, Sean carefully lowered himself over Christian until he lay atop him, fitting his body around Christian's, kissing his cheek and then down to his neck and shoulder.

"Happy New Year," Christian said sleepily.

"Happy New Year, my love," Sean whispered in his ear before sliding down a little, kissing his way across Christian's shoulders and back, his hands sliding down from Christian's sides to his hips, and back again. Christian sighed, shifting a little, relaxing and letting Sean love him.

Sean missed very little of Christian's back with his kisses, and any part he missed with his lips, he touched with his cheek when he paused to rest his face against Christian, just soaking in he moment of intimacy and the depth of the love and passion he felt for the man beneath him. Continuing lower, he showered kisses on Christian's cheeks, parting them as gently as he could, kissing between them, eliciting a groan from Christian, who moved his leg up a bit more to give Sean easier access.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. I know there's nothing more perfect than starting the day inside you. Let me do that for you."

"Sounds like a beautiful way to start a whole new year of our lives," Sean said, planting a little kiss near Christian's tail bone before finding the lube and very gently preparing Christian. He was infinitely more relaxed than he had been his first time, and Sean was both thrilled and moved by that. Their lovemaking that way must have felt good enough to him that he wasn't even nervous to do it a second time.

When he carefully slipped inside Christian, he was pressed against his back, skin on skin, and he slid his hand up Christian's arm until their fingers laced. His rhythm was slow and languid, since he could have drifted away into forever in this perfect place, with Christian's body against him, him inside Christian. He felt tears in his eyes at the realization that Christian had let him in this way, trusted him so fully, and loved him so much that even this most difficult and frightening step was made with love and openness and joy. When he came, it was with regret that it was over. Christian was still hard, and Sean pressed the tube of gel into his hand and turned over on his stomach, waiting for Christian to be inside him.

Relaxed as Sean was from his orgasm, Christian didn't need to spend long preparing him, but he still took great care to lubricate him and slide in gently, fitting his body around Sean's. Pumping in and out slowly, he took his time making love to him, realizing that Sean probably wouldn't come again this fast and that Christian himself really didn't need much stimulation to come, since he was on the verge when Sean finished inside him. He just basked in the scent of Sean's body and the feeling of his skin, the taste of the kisses they managed to share even though they were a little awkward to reach. When he came, it was a sweet release, and he lay there still inside Sean for several long minutes, neither one of them wanting to part.

Finally, reluctantly, Christian withdrew from Sean's body and Sean turned so they could embrace, sharing more kisses.

"I've been wanting to try out that claw foot tub since we got here," Christian said, and Sean's quiet laughter rumbled against his stomach in the most delightful way.

"So go draw us a bath, then."

"Why don't you go draw us a bath?"

"Because it was your idea, and because you love me and you like to do nice things for me."

"Jesus, it didn't take long after the wedding for you to have me by the balls, did it?" Christian joked, his tone much more loving than his words as he kissed Sean again. "Guilty as charged."

"It's one of the things I love most about you. The way you like to take care of me."

"I'll let you know when the bath is ready," Christian said, kissing the end of Sean's nose before getting out of bed and padding naked into the bathroom.

And that's one of the other things I love most about you - - your penchant for walking around naked.

Thankfully, the claw foot tub was a large one, but it still didn't exactly provide luxurious accommodations for two grown men. Still, the tight confines weren't all bad, and they finally settled for each sitting at one end of the tub, leading to some comical leg entanglements while they bathed each other, sending more water on the floor than anywhere else.

"I miss our big tub at home," Christian said. "This is nostalgic and charming if you never want to have sex in the bathtub without bending something backwards."

"I don't know. This is kind of nice. Just being close and taking a bath together. Anytime I'm wet and naked and with you, I can't complain."

"I guess I can't argue with that. Did you talk to Conor this morning? I thought I heard you on the phone while I was in here preparing your bath, your majesty," Christian teased.

"I called Maria and told her about the weather, and she said everything's been fine at home. She was going to call Liz and let her know we'd probably be delayed a day or two." Sean smiled. "I'm starting to miss him a lot. I realized it when I talked to him this morning."

"Me, too. It's been great to have some uninterrupted time together, but our little boy is a welcome interruption. Usually," he amended, chuckling.

********

It was early afternoon when the phone rang and it was Jeff on the other end of the line, asking if it was a good time for them to stop by for Sean and Christian to take a look at Brandon's scars. Since they were just stretched out on the couch watching the snowfall and a football game on TV, they agreed, and within a few minutes, the two young men were at their door.

"Thanks for doing this," Jeff said as they walked into the room. "Wow. This is a big room," he said, going to the window. "The view out back is spectacular, isn't it?"

"It's been a nice room," Christian agreed.

"How should I do this?" Brandon asked, seeming nervous, as if he wanted to get it over with. Sean looked at him, and then assessed the situation. He had scars he was obviously ashamed of, and three people were standing around waiting for him to strip and show them off.

"Brandon, would you be more comfortable if one of us examined you in private?" Sean asked. "A lot of our patients are uneasy with more than one doctor, or even with loved ones sitting in on an exam." Jeff nodded, not seeming to be offended by that, but Brandon still looked uneasy. "This is about you, and your comfort level. If we're going to treat you, you need to be honest with us about what makes you uneasy or comfortable."

"I'd rather just do it one on one, if it's okay," he said, looking at Jeff.

"It's fine, baby." Jeff stroked his hair gently. "I can have a drink downstairs."

"I'll keep you company," Christian offered. "Sean can brief me on anything I need to know later."

********

"Okay, Brandon, I'm going to sit in this chair, and you can show me whenever you're ready," Sean said, sitting down and putting on his glasses.

Brandon pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it on the couch, then unzipped his jeans and pushed them down a little in back and pulled up his shirttail. Sean swallowed, angry and horrified at what he saw. The word 'fag' had been carved into the flesh. The cuts had been sutured but not very artfully, leaving the scar lumpy, jagged, and ugly, the word forever etched in his flesh.

All Sean could think about at that moment was his own sons, and what he'd feel if someone did such an ungodly thing to one of them just because of whom he loved.

"It's hopeless, right?" Brandon asked. "I haven't let Jeff make love to me from behind since it happened. I only do it if I'm on my back. Of all the things I forget every day, I never forget that."

"Do you know what they used to do this? What type of blade?" Sean asked, examining the damaged flesh carefully.

"The doctor told the police he thought it was probably a switchblade, but they were pretty rough with it...making it jagged and deep."

"It's not hopeless, Brandon. We can do a lot to make these less noticeable, and we can definitely make it unreadable."

"But it'll always be there."

"Everyone heals differently," Sean said, examining the area carefully. He made a couple notes on a sheet of hotel stationery he'd kept hand for that purpose. "It's a large area, so your recovery will be a little longer and more difficult than just fixing the scar on your forehead. You need to be prepared for that, and for the fact that it may not be a perfect result. It depends on the depth of the wounds, the scar tissue...we get the best results when we can either close the wounds ourselves, or deal with them before the scarring is too advanced. We'll do our best to make it as perfect as possible. You can get dressed now."

"The bottom line is that every time Jeff makes love to me and can see my back, he's going to see some part of it there." He finished dressing and sat on the end of the couch.

"Did you hear about the Carver case in Miami a while back?"

"I've seen some true crime shows about it, yeah. Hey, wait a minute, were you the Dr. McNamara they talked about who did surgeries on the victims?"

"That was me. I declined to be part of those shows. I just wanted our lives to go back to normal once it was over. The point is, Naomi Gaines, one of his first victims, had very deep lacerations on her face. After the repair work, she went back to her modeling career, and she's doing very well. Her face looks beautiful. My cut wasn't as deep as the others, but it was still pretty serious."

"Oh, man, that's right, he cut you. Shit, I can't see anything. Which side was it?"

"Right here," Sean could still outline precisely where it was, just by touch, even now that he couldn't see or feel it there.

"Wow. You think my back could turn out that well?"

"It could be a little tougher, because it's not a fresh wound, and we have the scar tissue to deal with. The Carver cuts were fairly straight, clean cuts - - but one of the victims, who had cut herself to fake being a Carver victim - - used a bread knife and did a pretty shitty job, leaving more jagged edges. We still had quite a bit of success with her surgery. I think we can do a lot with your back, even if it takes more than one surgery and some other cosmetic procedures, like dermabrasion or bleaching."

"I can't ask that of you. You offered to fix a single scar on my forehead. I can try to pay you monthly."

"Don't worry about the money, Brandon. You're only a couple years older than our oldest son. I keep thinking how I'd feel if someone did this to him," Sean said. "I guess I'd hope if I didn't have the ability to fix it for him, someone who could, would help him."

"You know what my dad said when he found out? If you're going to be a faggot and rub people's faces in it by playing kissyface on the street with your boyfriend in a rough neighborhood, you've got to be prepared to deal with the consequences. I guess he thought somebody scarring me for life and pounding my brain with a baseball bat until I can't remember my own schedule without a planner and sticky notes all over the fucking house was suitable punishment for what I am." He looked at Sean for a moment and then put his head in his hands, crying. Sean scooted his chair closer and ran his hand lightly back and forth across Brandon's shoulders. "Jeff's so angry and so hurt and so...freaked out about it that I have to put on this bullshit happy attitude about it all the time. It kind of works. If he thinks I'm okay with it, he can handle it."

"You're entitled to be angry or depressed or whatever you need to feel. Jeff loves you, and it's obvious that he wants to be there for you. If he's angry, he'll deal with it."

"I was the fucking valedictorian of my high school class! I graduated summa cum laude from college with a 3.8! That's the guy Jeff fell in love with. Now if I took a college class, I'd probably flunk it or be lucky to get a C in it if I studied constantly. In one swing of some asshole's bat, I'm a moron."

"Jeff fell in love with you, and brain damage didn't change that. You're not a moron, far from it." Sean smiled. "You taught me how to waltz, didn't you? That qualifies you as a miracle worker."

"I guess I did," he agreed, almost laughing. "My neurologist keeps telling me I'm lucky to be alive, and that I'm lucky I still have my motor skills and my speech and my long term memory. Yeah, I'm lucky, all right."

"You have Jeff, and we can fix the scars. It doesn't replace what you lost, but maybe it'll make things a little easier." Sean paused, patting Brandon's back a little before withdrawing his hand. "Were you and your dad close before you came out?"

"Not really. I came out in high school, and I went through a lot of crap there. I was a disappointment to him. I painted and played guitar and joined the choir instead of the football team. I got beaten up by the jocks, I wasn't one of them," Brandon concluded.

"If it's any consolation, I think your father is very misguided. Speaking as a father myself, I would be very proud to have someone like you for my son."

"Thanks," he said, smiling a little.

"The fact that you've suffered a loss, that you're not the same as you were before...that's not going to make Jeff love you less. It's obvious that he's in this for the long haul. Shortly after Christian and I became lovers, my ex-wife and daughter were killed. I didn't think I'd live through it, and there were times I didn't particularly want to. Christian was there for me through everything, and I could feel how much he loved me every time he touched me, and I heard it in his voice every time he talked to me. There were times I didn't sleep, didn't eat, had nightmares...and none of that made Christian love me any less. If anything, it made us closer. I know I'm not the same person I was before...you can't be after something like that. But love survives that, and it has for you, too."

"I'm sorry about your family. I didn't even know you had kids. I guess you know my whole life story and I didn't even bother to ask about yours. But what's the point? I'll forget it five minutes later."

"Then you ask me again," Sean said, sympathetically. "Besides, have you ever met parents or grandparents who didn't like an excuse to brag about their kids more than once? Christian and I have a son, Matt, a couple years younger than you. My daughter, Annie, was almost thirteen when she died. Conor, our youngest, is a year and a half."

"Did you adopt?"

"I was married for about twenty years, give or take a couple. Christian is Matt's biological father, Annie and Conor are my kids. We've raised them all together, one way or another."

"Your sons are really lucky to have you and Christian for parents."

"You're young and your whole life's ahead of you with someone you love, who loves you. There are some good things to be happy about." Sean patted Brandon's shoulder. "Sorry. It's the dad in me that wants to make you feel better, I guess."

"Yeah, well...it's working. Should we go get our partners and see if we can beg some lunch off the innkeepers?"

"Sounds like a great idea."

********

"How bad is his back?" Christian asked as they sat at the bar in the inn's dining room. A few guests were seated at the small number of tables, having lunch. It was a quaint, masculine room with dark wood and framed art featuring fox hunts and other types of wildlife.

"After they bashed his head in, they decided they should carve the word 'fag' into his back. I guess they wanted to be sure everyone knew why it happened, in case they hit him hard enough that he didn't remember being called one."

"Shit," Christian muttered, taking a drink of the beer he'd ordered.

"You know, last night is one of the first times Brandon's reached out to people socially since it happened. He's so self-conscious about his memory, he usually doesn't like meeting new people anymore. He used to be really outgoing. We'd go to a party and he was the life of it. Now, if we go to a party, he just stays with me, like he's hanging onto me almost in fear of being on his own with strangers."

"That's when his disability is the most noticeable, and you can either cover for him, or be a safe harbor, instead of him having to deal with all that new information on his own."

"He's been through so much, and he's come so far since the attack. He amazes me, and some stupid scar on his back doesn't change that. He's so ashamed of it that he doesn't want me to see it."

"Scars can be as traumatic as the injury itself. Maybe if we can get rid of some of the scarring, he'll feel better about himself."

"Of all the people for someone to drag into the bushes and brutalize like that. Brandon's the gentlest, kindest person I ever met. I keep thinking what if I'd insisted on driving him to work? It wasn't the best neighborhood. Brandon never even thought about it being dangerous. I guess I didn't either. You hear these horror stories about gay bashing and hate crimes, and you never think it's going to happen to you."

"We've been lucky. Our family and close friends have handled our relationship. I know there are people who see Sean and me together, or us with Conor, functioning as a family, and would be disgusted by that, but I have to admit I never really thought too much about something like this. That we could actually be in danger, or our family could be." Christian shook his head. "It's insane."

"You get used to the funny looks. The limitations and the prejudice are tiring...the way you get treated compared to how hetero couples are treated. It was hard to get used to at first. I mean, Brandon's been out since he was in high school, but it was an adjustment for me. But he's worth it. He's worth anything it takes. I had to really work at convincing him of that after the attack. I don't mind the scars, or writing him notes to remind him of things, or being with him when he gets one of his headaches - - I don't mind it for me, because when I thought he might die, I just prayed that he'd live, and that he'd remember me and how we felt about each other. It wouldn't have mattered how much I had to do to take care of him. It's not hard to take care of him when he needs me - - it's just hard to watch him suffer. I just hope he knows that."

"I think he knows. I feel the same way about Sean. That he's worth anything...everything." Christian paused. "Sean's ex-wife and daughter died in an explosion right after we got together, and the hardest part for me wasn't being there for him, it was watching him suffer and not being able to take it away. The only thing that made it easier for me was being able to do something that made him feel better."

"That's how I feel when I take care of Brandon. I had no idea Sean had been through something like that."

"He's done really well getting on with his life, but it's a sense of loss that never goes away. We both cared very deeply for Julia, Sean's ex-wife, but losing Annie, his daughter...that was the bitterest part of it for him. For both of us. She was so young, and it was so sudden..."

"It's weird. I was really jealous of how easy I figured you guys had it. I mean, you looked affluent, like you were both whole, healthy... I thought it was a good bet that you hadn't been through anything really trying like we had."

"We felt the same way about two when we saw you on the dance floor together. We were thinking how lucky you were to have figured out your feelings for each other so early, and to have all those years ahead of you, to have smooth sailing, no major troubles, like we've had."

"Guess we were both pretty misguided."

********

"We're all packed, so all we have to do is throw the last of our stuff in the suitcase in the morning," Sean said, climbing into bed with a yawn.

"Anxious to get home?" Christian asked, turning off the TV and setting the remote on the night stand. He opened his arms, the warmth of Sean's body against his dispelling the cold faster than any quilt.

"I miss Conor...our house. I'm ready to go home and start our married life."

"What do you really think the chances are of fixing Brandon's scars?"

"I think we can make them better, make them unreadable. They were deep cuts and there's a lot of scar tissue. My best guess is that he'll look a whole lot better, but he'll always have a few marks we can't totally get rid of."

"Even if we made him physically flawless, he'd still be brain damaged when we were done."

"That's true, but he might feel a little better emotionally, and maybe he can relax and make love with Jeff and not be ashamed of that filthy label they carved into him."

"We'll do everything we can for him. He's a good kid. They both are." Christian yawned, and turned out the light.

"You know what Mrs. Carter said when I stopped at the desk to pay, and found out you'd already taken care of that?" Sean asked.

"That she was envious of you being married to such an incredibly hot, sexy man?"

"Besides that," Sean said, snorting.

"No, what?"

"She said 'your husband already took care of it.' I didn't know how I felt about that, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. You've been my best friend and my partner for years. But it felt good to hear such a...traditional married word used to describe our relationship."

"So we're both husbands?"

"I'm not gonna be the wife, so I guess we are."

"This is my husband, Sean." Christian thought about that a few seconds. "I know what you mean. It has a ring to it."

"Meeting Jeff and Brandon really made me think about how lucky we are, how good our life is, and the people we have in it."

"It also made me realize we need to be sure we always take reasonable precautions to keep ourselves and each other, and our family, safe. Maybe just that we need to be aware the threat could be out there."

"So we need to watch each other's backs, take care of each other, protect each other, and watch out for our kids," Sean summarized, kissing Christian's chest before closing his eyes. "Sounds like the last twenty-five years, doesn't it?" he asked sleepily.

Christian laughed softly at the truth in those words. He kissed Sean goodnight, and drifted off to sleep with a lingering smile on his face.

********

THE END

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