Title: MOVING ON

Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)

Pairing: Donald and Timothy

Rating: NC-17 

Word Count: 12,072

References/Spoilers: Nothing major.

Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.

Summary: After Christmas, the guys explore their future in Long Island, and close a chapter in their lives in Albany. Donald grapples a bit with the change in his career. Sequel to "Christmas Waltz" in the One Night Series.

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MOVING ON

by

Candy Apple

I was pretty sure that Suffolk County, especially along the waterfront, would be beautiful in the nice weather. In the winter, it was just more frozen landscape, only with water added. Timothy found us a nice room in a hotel with a view of the ocean. I'm not sure why he cared about a view of the ocean in the winter, but he thought it was beautiful. I think he's beautiful, and I love anything that makes his eyes light up. Since we didn't have to lease an apartment, assuming we passed Janice and Bill Davis' inspection to house sit, we cut our trip short so we were only there a couple days. That way, we could both pack up the apartment and move together, instead of my having to leave Timmy behind and start my training process while he did the dirty work by himself.

We were planning to put our furniture in storage, and there wasn't all that much to move. Ah, the good old days before we had a big house ourselves and stuff to fill every room. When moving didn't send a cold chill of terror through my body at the thought of what I'd have to pack and transfer to the new place. Oh, well, gathering stuff together is part of being married, and I love being married to him, so I guess by extension, I love our stuff, too.

"It should be coming up anytime now," I said, craning my neck to look at the numbers on the brick light post at the end of the driveway we were passing. Timmy's a great driver and he knows his way around most anywhere if you give him a map or halfway decent directions. Still, I'm a god-awful backseat driver and I still like to take him around when the weather is bad.

"It's still about a half mile or so," he said calmly. I should have known. He'd meticulously monitored the trip meter, and he knew almost to the foot how far we had to go yet before we found the house in our rented SUV. I figured it was good they were meeting us when we drove up in the late model rental. I'm not sure how they'd have reacted to my car with our belongings tied on top like The Munsters on holiday.

"That curve is probably icy," I said, almost to myself, as I stared out the passenger window.

"Really? You think?" he asked, chuckling. I looked over at him, and he just flashed me that smile of his.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Nicholas used to do the same thing to me when I had my learner's permit," he joked.

"Is that it? It's supposed to be right after the curve."

"Two houses past the curve, honey. It's right up there," he said, turning into a driveway that curved through snow covered property scattered with barren trees. The driveway branched off in a circle in front of the house, and another branch of it continued back to the garage. In the middle of the circular drive was a big stone fountain that was probably even more spectacular in the nice weather when it was flowing. Hopefully their yard guy took care of cleaning the crud out of it and keeping it working.

The house was even more than I expected. John said it looked like the Amityville house? On steroids, maybe. It was white with black shutters, and it did have that Dutch Colonial barn-shaped roof thing going on, but there was another wing out each side, making it sprawl. Dormers poked through the roof, indicating there was a good size third floor. The wreaths and garlands of Christmas were still on it, including the pine that wrapped around the yard lamp, topped off with a huge red bow.

"Wow. Big place," I said.

"Beautiful setting," he commented, pulling up in the circle drive near the front door. "It reminds me of Grandma's house," he said, turning off the engine.

"This looks like Grandma Grace's house?" I asked.

"Not exactly, but it's similar." He stuck the car keys in the pocket of his jeans. I tried not to think about how nicely they fit him when he arched his back just a bit to get the keys in there. We were dressed for cold weather, in sweaters, jeans, and our winter coats. When I'd made the appointment with Janice, she'd urged us to just come as we were, insisting they weren't formal people.

"I forget sometimes that Grandma Grace is loaded," I said. Timmy laughed as we got out of the SUV and went to the door.

"I think she'd prefer the term affluent."

"If she's got a place like this, sorry, she's loaded." I rang the bell. A tall, slender, older woman with short blonde hair opened the door. She wore a red Christmas sweater with jeans and sneakers. And a pair of very visible diamond earrings.

"You must be Don and Tim," she said, smiling, shaking hands with both of us. "Come in out of the cold. It's freezing out there," she said, stepping back for us to enter. The first thing we saw was the big open staircase with its rich woodwork and stairs carpeted in a dark green.

There was a huge chandelier above our heads, and a wood floor with a finish that nearly glowed, beneath our feet. A big oriental rug gave the area a bit of warmth and had some of the green color that was on the stairs. I felt like I was walking into a Better Homes and Gardens feature; I could see Timmy felt like he was coming home. I always wonder how he could have grown up like this and not turned out to be a pretentious prick. People like Timmy, Eleanor, and John Madison taught me a few things about rich people. Like PI's, they're all individuals and they're not all seedy.

"This is a stunning house," Tim said, looking around. "You obviously have invested a lot of yourself in making it a showplace."

"You're so charming," she said, beaming. "Thank you. It's my pride and joy. Let's sit down and have some coffee and cookies. I'm still in Christmas baking mode," she said, leading the way into the living room.

"I thought something smelled good," I said. "John said it was a beautiful house...he didn't mention it was this big."

"It's a large home, but once you get used to it, you'll find it very homey," she replied. The living room was painted a soft shade of green and the furniture was nice, but not that fancy, stiff nice that made you feel you couldn't sit on it. There were a couple of big overstuffed chairs and a couch that was comfortable. The coffee table matched the rich oak woodwork, and a fire crackled in the fireplace. She was right. It was homey for a place that big.

She poured us coffee from a Christmas decorated pot into festive snowman mugs. The room was still bedecked with pine, bows, lights and ornaments. The cookies were snowmen, too, thickly frosted with little faces and hats. They were amazing. I wanted to go into a room and make love to that plate of cookies.

"These are incredible," I said, and she smiled as she took a demure bite off the edge of one.

"Thank you. My grandmother's recipe. So, when do you start work with John's company?" she asked.

"In a couple weeks. We can be moved in here before that, though, if you like. We're putting some furniture in storage and just bringing our personal effects with us for now."

"Wonderful. I'd love it if you'd be in as soon as possible after we leave. Now, I have a room made up for you. It's not the master suite - we'd appreciate that being kept closed. That, and my husband's home office. I think you'll find the suite I've chosen for you to be very comfortable, and the library makes for a wonderful workspace if you have to work at home, so I don't think you'll miss those rooms."

"I think we'll have plenty of space," Tim said, smiling. "We have a two bedroom apartment right now."

"Well, then I guess you'll have lots of extra space." She laughed as she took another bite off her cookie. "Your suite has a beautiful view of the ocean. Would you like to take the tour?"

I wondered if I could stay there with the cookies and she could just show Timmy the house.

"We'd love to," he replied, standing as she did. So, I did, too, hoping I'd get another shot at a cookie before we left.

The kitchen was a big cheery room with white cabinets and granite counter tops. I could picture having breakfast with Timmy in there on a sunny morning. And, even though I'd gotten over thinking he'd be happier with someone richer than me, I found myself wishing I could give him a house like that. The dining room was very elegant, with a full wall of built in china cabinets in rich oak and beveled glass.

"The cabinets are filled with heirloom china and crystal," she said. "While I'm sure you're both very careful, I would appreciate it if you'd use the dishes in the kitchen cabinets. You're welcome to use whatever we have there."

"That's fine," Tim said, looking through the glass at the ornate plates that looked brittle and antique. "My mother has quite a collection of fine china that's been in our family for a while, too. She's very protective of it."

"Then you understand," she said, leading the way toward the stairs. "Our suite is at the end of the hall behind those doors." She indicated a pair of oak French doors with lace curtains covering the glass. She showed us a couple of guest rooms, and then our suite.

The room had a beautiful big bed with a rich carved wood headboard and footboard, a matching dresser, and a pair of leather chairs facing French doors that opened onto a balcony. The walls were covered with a dark red wallpaper with these fancy little designs in it. Timmy told me they were fleur de lis. Okay. I took his word for it. It was all very Gothic and masculine. The bathroom was pretty spectacular, too, with its big claw foot tub and pedestal sinks and period light fixtures. I could envision making use of that big, deep bathtub with Timmy on a cold winter night.

"Well, I definitely think we'll get spoiled with these accommodations," Timmy commented, running his hand along the footboard of the bed. "Did you do all the decorating yourself?"

"Actually, my parents decorated this room, and a few of the others. We've updated rugs and window treatments as needed, but a lot of the decor is thanks to my mother. She had a wonderful eye for vintage decor. Let me show you the third floor. You probably won't have much occasion to use it, but it's a nice space."

It was. The ocean views were amazing from that high above ground. There was a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom up there. I could picture it as a nice weight room, if Timmy didn't claim it for something.

"We've used it for guest quarters. My parents' housekeeper lived here for over twenty years before she retired."

She showed us through the basement, which was mostly storage. After showing us the furnace, breaker box, and other utilities, we returned to the living room, and, blessedly, to the snowman cookies. I ate another one while she told us about the various service people we should expect to deal with - the snow removal, the maintenance man, the weekly visit from the housekeeper who would give the whole house a routine cleaning, and a few other mundane details, which I jotted down on a notepad. Old detective habits die hard, so I still had one in my pocket, and took notes on all the instructions - well, that is, the ones she didn't already have typed on a sheet of paper for us. To my utter delight, she sent us on our way with a little bag of cookies.

********

I never used to sleep that well in hotels, but I discovered pretty early in our marriage that I could sleep anywhere as long as Timothy was sleeping next to me. He's like a big sleeping pill, even if the conditions aren't ideal. It's a sense of well-being when I'm near him...knocks me out like a light if I'm tired. So I was dead to the world when he let out a yelp I'm surprised didn't bring hotel security running.

I could barely get my eyes all the way open that fast, but once I could tell he was in the bed, not hurt, and we were alone, I turned on the light on my night stand and stroked his forehead, back through his hair, trying to wake him gently from the nightmare that still had him whimpering a little and thrashing around.

"Sweetheart, wake up. It's okay. You're safe," I said, catching his hand, kissing his cheek. "I'm here, baby."

He finally opened his eyes and stared at me, like he was surprised to see me there. "Don? You're okay?"

"Of course, I'm okay, honey," I said, gathering him in my arms, cradling his head and rubbing his back as he clung to me.

"I saw him shoot you."

"Who shot me?" I asked, hugging him close. I was the one who usually woke up in a panic, and Timmy had to peel me off the ceiling. He wasn't big on nightmares; he still isn't. I've given him reason for a few, but mostly, he's a happy guy without a lot of demons in his head. I want to always keep him safe, keep him that way.

"It was surreal, but we were at some restaurant...like a nightclub or something, and Steve was there. We were dancing - you and I - we were waltzing," he added. I saw a little chance to make him smile.

"Was my technique any smoother?" I asked, and amidst all the ugliness, he smiled.

"Your technique is fine with me, just the way it is," he said, tightening his hold on me.

"So did I knock his lights out? 'Cause that's what he'll get if he comes near you again."

"You tried, but he pulled out a gun and he shot you." He hid his face between my neck and shoulder, and his whole body started shaking.

"Shit," I muttered, just holding him, kissing his forehead, stroking his hair. "I'm fine, baby. It was a nightmare. That's all. Probably a combination of watching Lethal Weapon before going to sleep and worrying about that half wit showing up again. He's not going to shoot me, honey."

"You don't know that."

"Does he have a gun?"

"Not that I know of, but it's not like people can't get one."

"No, that's true, they can. The only reason we saw the dumb fuck again was because he was there with that lawyer guy, as his date. He didn't come specifically looking for you." I didn't trust that the asshole didn't know Timmy would be there, but I was trying not to get carried away with paranoia. 

"I know. It was so real. I thought when I opened my eyes, you'd be gone, and I'd be alone."

"Never. Not as long as I have a couple breaths left in my wheezing old carcass."

"Your carcass isn't old."

"Not yet, but I plan on being with you long after it is." I tilted his head up and kissed him properly. "And I am going to get old with you. The likes of Steve Brewer aren't gonna stop me."

"I couldn't stand it if something like that happened."

"I know. It was just bad dream, baby." I kissed him again and held him close. I wanted Brewer's head on a plate.

"Leave the light on a while, okay?" His voice sounded small and scared, like a little kid who's afraid of the monster in his room.

"Okay, honey. Look at me," I urged, nudging his chin up again. "I'm fine. We're going to be together when we're old and gray, and Steve is dribbling his oatmeal down his chin in some old people's home by himself because he's such an insufferable dick that even a sleazy lawyer can do better for a life partner." I know sometimes my sick humor makes him laugh, and it worked. He chuckled softly, hugging me, his hold still a little desperate.

"You think it was just all the gunfire in the movie?"

"What else do you think it would be?"

He was silent a long time. He whispered what he said next.

"Sometimes dreams are premonitions."

"And 99% of the time, they're a combination of too many Christmas cookies, a bad choice of bedtime movies, and sleeping in a strange bed." I kissed his cheek. I didn't want him to think I was dismissing his fears. "You're the smartest man I know, but you're not clairvoyant."

"No, not ordinarily."

"Then we don't have any reason to think this is a vision. It's a bad dream, that's all. You could have just as easily seen armed frosted snowmen having a gunfight with Riggs and Murtaugh as to see Steve with a gun. It was just a bunch of shit your brain cobbled together and played with."

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I believe that." I just held him close a few minutes, glad his breathing was settling down, and his body relaxing in my arms. "Tomorrow night, you pick the movie," I said, kissing him again. "Anything you want."

"Maybe tomorrow night, we'll just find something else to do in bed so we don't need a movie."

"Even better," I agreed, smiling, letting myself relax.

"You can turn the light out. It's probably right in your eyes." It was, but I would have endured a railroad spike in my eyes just to feel him calm down, to know he felt better. A light was no big deal.

"I can leave it if you want, honey."

"No, I'm okay now."

"Okay." I turned out the light and made sure we were nice and cozy under the blankets, all wrapped up in each other's arms. "I promise you, everything's going to be okay. It was just a dream."

"I know, I believe you." He held me tighter. "And I love you."

"I love you, too, honey. Go to sleep. We're safe. And forget Steve. I gave him a little taste of what he's gonna get if he bothers you again."

"What do you mean?"

I hadn't planned on telling Timmy about it, but I thought it might give him some peace.

"I sent his boyfriend a copy of the DVD," I said.

"Don, Edgar's a lawyer. He could go after you for blackmail."

"What? I didn't demand anything, there are no prints on the DVD, and trust me, he's never gonna trace how I delivered it to his office. If he fucks with you again, his parents, his boss, and everyone else who means anything in his life, are gonna get copies. He knows those were the terms. He violated the bargain, so he's gotta pay the price. Otherwise, it's an empty threat."

"I suppose Steve will keep him from making an issue of it, to save himself anymore humiliation."

"Sure he will. Meanwhile, Mr. Social Climber's probably gonna get knocked down a couple rungs when that fancy pants lawyer doesn't want to get caught dating a former male stripper. I told you to leave that fucker to me. I misjudged his raging ego and overpowering stupidity, but I'll be ready for him if he tries anything else." I kissed his forehead and rubbed his shoulder.

I hoped that as Timothy fell asleep, he knew he was safe, that Steve was a non-issue. I was done tap dancing with that fucker. I wasn't sure yet how I was gonna end him, but it was him or me, and since Timothy had chosen me, and Thor seemed to have a problem getting that through his thick skull, it was going to be up to me to clarify things for him.

********

Don took me to see the site of the new mall the next day. The outside shell was done, and it was impressive and elegant. Shaped like a rectangular donut, the interior courtyard would be uncovered, open to the outdoors, with ornate landscaping, an outdoor café, and storefronts that mimicked the Rodeo Drive shopping experience. Shoppers could also access the stores from a traditional interior mall hallway.

"Well, that's a double security concern, isn't it?" I observed, sticking my hands in my pockets as we walked around the exterior of the building. There was something desolate and a bit creepy about the vacant mall and the extensive, empty parking lot. There were already islands defined by cement curbs that would provide more greenery and ornamental landscaping than the ones you ordinarily find at a mall.

"Yeah, so many stores having two possible customer entries is a challenge. Most malls, you have that with the anchor stores, but the others are delivery entrances, or internal access only."

"Good thing he hired someone outstanding," I said, taking my hand out of my pocket and linking my arm through his. I've always been proud of Don, and since the night I met him, I was proud to be with him. But I was so proud of his achievement, that John Madison had entrusted such a huge venture to his care.

"I'll have to be on top of my game, that's for sure," he said, smiling, but it seemed forced.

"Something wrong?" I asked as we made our way back to the SUV.

"No," he said, giving me another semi-crooked little smile.

"You're going to be phenomenal at this job, you know that, right?"

"I better be," he responded.

"Or what?" I asked, stopping us out in the middle of the cold parking lot. Did I mention the wind? It was whipping along at a pretty good clip, too.

"Huh?"

"You better be good at it, or what's going to happen?"

"There's millions of dollars in merchandise going in these stores. And we're not just talking about $19.99 clearance rack stuff. Somebody could shoplift a couple outfits and make off with several thousand dollars worth."

"And that's more life-threatening than some of the stuff you were responsible for in the military?"

"Not more life-threatening, no."

"Then what's really bothering you, honey?"

"We're uprooting our whole lives, I'm taking you away from where you could probably get another job a lot easier, where you've done all that networking... Shit, I've never even been to fucking Rodeo Drive."

"We can fix that," I said, waggling my eyebrows at him.

"Why did I just see my life flash before my eyes on that one?" he asked, laughing and shaking his head.

"I'd only do it for you, darling," I replied sweetly.

"You've been there, haven't you?"

"Don, you know my mother. Do you really think she'd have made it to this point in her life without making a pilgrimage...or ten...to Rodeo Drive?"

"No, I can't say I do," he said, still smiling.

"And, being a dutiful son, just wanting to help carry her bags, you know...I've gone with her a couple times."

"Uh-huh."

"It's great if you like designer labels and overpriced things." I paused. "I kind of...do," I said, shrugging, and he laughed again.

"Thanks for confessing that. I never would have guessed."

"They're just fancier stores, and like you said, the merchandise is worth more, but the principles of guarding it are the same, aren't they?"

"That's just it, Timmy. I've never done this before, and now I'm the head of it?"

"You can learn about retail, and you can learn corporate...stuff. You can't learn to be a quick thinker or to have good instincts. That's what John Madison wants. He's going to be sure you have the training and the information you need to do this. That night in the store, when you spotted those robbers and got Tiffany out of there and managed the situation...those are the instincts and the quick thinking he's after."

"What if I fuck this up?" he asked me, and I knew it really worried him because he wasn't looking at me when he said it.

"Then you'll either go back to being a PI, and I'll have another job by then, or you'll find something else, or we'll move back to Albany...I don't know, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that would fuck up my life is not having you. This is a risk, Donald. We knew that when you accepted the offer. We're grabbing for a brass ring, and that's scary. But we're in all of it together, honey. You and I. Just the two of us against the world," I added, sliding my arms around his middle, smiling at him. "Kind of romantic, don't you think?"

"I don't want to...be an embarrassment to you."

"That," I said, pausing to kiss him so long and hard that I think I was starting to deprive him of oxygen, "is not possible. I'm proud of being with you, not of what you do. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, smiling, hugging me back, while I cradled his head against my shoulder. It hadn't occurred to me just how much pressure was on him to do something he wasn't experienced in, to step into a top level job, for everyone to know about it, and to wonder what he'd do if he failed. I don't think Don was used to being loved in spite of his successes and failures. Over the years, I know he's figured out that I'm in this for the duration, no matter how successful he is or isn't, no matter what he tries. I should have known all that, because I know how scary it was to take on Sean Donnelly's chief of staff job when I wasn't sure I could handle it...when Senator Glassman hadn't thought I could handle her chief aide job.

"Come on, Mr. Head of Security. The unemployed Chief of Staff would like to take you to dinner."

"Sounds good," he replied, laughing.

"And then take you to his hotel room and fuck you into sexual exhaustion until you scream for mercy."

"I could forego dinner if you want," he offered.

********

When we got back to Albany, we rented a storage unit and moved all our furniture into it except for our bed and the TV, since we were still living there for a night or two. Kevin and Frank offered to move that stuff to the storage unit for us after we left. Don's weights were going with us in a U-Haul trailer with the rest of our stuff. Don and I were going to drive his car, and Fred and Cora were going to follow us in his big old Buick hauling the trailer. We didn't expect Don's car to bear up under that burden all the way to Long Island. Fred loved the excuse for a road trip, and Cora was dying to see the mansion where we'd be living.

She said "yes" to his proposal on Christmas Eve, so they were preparing to celebrate New Year's Eve with an eye to it being a real new beginning. Cora was toying with getting married on Valentine's Day, since she said it had worked so well for us.

Kevin and Frank hosted a New Year's Eve get together at their place. Fred and Cora survived an evening in an apartment full of festive gay and lesbian couples, but the bottom line was that our hosts were boring old married people like us, and most of their friends were of the more established, monogamous ilk than partying swingers.

The wildest thing any of us did was get into a drinking game about sex, but that was at two in the morning, after Fred and Cora called it a night. Don and I only got moderately tipsy, so our hosts told us we needed to get friskier and gave us a set of handcuffs as a door prize, since our dry spell was during the BDSM segment. An older lesbian couple won, and told us we should be ashamed of ourselves for letting a couple old broads twice our age steal the trophy.

Eh, maybe if I lined the handcuffs with fur or something. I couldn't stand marks on the fair skin of Donald's wrists, and there's certainly nothing he has to restrain me to do to me. I'm always a happy accomplice in whatever sexual possibility we explore.

We slept like the dead until noon on New Year's Day and, since we didn't have any other furniture, spent most of it lying around on the bed, making out and watching TV. Everything was packed, and our departure for Long Island was the next morning.

"I'm gonna miss this place," I said, my fingers lightly toying with Don's hair while the back of his head rested on my shoulder. We were watching some old movie.

"I remember the first night I came back here with you. I was surprised you still wanted to date me. You probably thought I was narcoleptic."

"I thought it was incredibly sweet you kept our date when you'd been up for three nights in a row."

"I'd have shown up for that date if I'd been in the ICU. I'd have just dragged my catheter bag and my IV with me."

"Now there's a pretty picture," I replied, laughing. "I remember lying next to you and wishing that I could lie next to you for the rest of our lives."

"Be careful what you wish for," he joked. I put my arm around him, resting it on his chest while he let out a big yawn and laced our fingers together. "And now I'm all yours."

"The greatest blessing of my life," I said, kissing the top of his head. "When we first met, and you were telling off that guy in the bar who came on to me? You were ready to go after him and I grabbed your arm?"

"Oh, yeah. That asshole needed a good pounding."

"I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Dear God," he said, laughing. "You know what I meant."

"I remember being so turned on by the feeling of those muscles under my hand."

"I've got another muscle you're welcome to have under your hand if you want."

"You're a dirty boy, Donald," I chided, and he looked up at me.

"That's why you love me."

"Among other things, yes," I agreed. "Why did you help me out anyway?"

"Because that guy was a fucking prick who needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself, and you looked like a nice guy. A nice guy who didn't need some fuck stick groping your goodies."

"A nice guy, huh?" I sighed. "I guess the way I jumped off the barstool like I'd been shot was a dead giveaway that I didn't really pick too many guys up in bars."

"Don't ever apologize for being a nice guy, Timothy." He kissed my hand. "It's kind of hot, really."

"It is, huh? Steve just thought I was a prude."

"Steve is motherfucking idiot who should be strung up by his balls, if he has any."

"A small needle and thread will be sufficient."

Don snorted at that. "Not too well hung, huh?"

"Very average equipment and substandard technique."

"Ouch."

"Nice guys don't usually discuss those issues, but you've earned the right to know."

"The ass was nothing special, even when he was in the middle of that dance routine in the winged boots, but you know, I was kind of wondering, since he didn't turn around..."

"Let's say I've upgraded substantially with you." I kissed the side of his head. "In every respect."

"You say the sweetest things," he joked, rolling over so he could get on top of me and kiss me.

"Only when they're true," I replied, kissing him. "Besides, he couldn't have a good enough package to make him worth the trouble."

"You thought you loved him once."

"I was young and stupid."

"That was only a little over a year ago."

"Okay, I was younger and more stupid than I am now," I amended, laughing. "And then I met this wonderful man that just sent my standards right through the roof."

"So how come you didn't date him instead of me?" he teased, and I whacked him in the face with a pillow.

"Smart ass."

"I know, but my impressive dick and giant balls make it all worthwhile, right?"

"Oh, yes. That's the only reason I put up with you."

********

Cora and I packed up the last of the files and personal belongings from my office the day we left for Long Island. It was one of those details we'd both been putting off, and since I didn't have to drop off the keys to the landlord until I was on my way out of town, there had been no reason to skyrocket it to the top of our priority list.

Timmy was tidying up any last minute stuff at the apartment, so I'd left him my car and Cora picked me up to go over to the office.

"I hope your new secretary keeps you organized," she said, meticulously labeling the cartons of files, making sure I hadn't somehow screwed up her filing system when I packed them. I didn't. One thing you don't do to someone like Cora, or Timmy for that matter, is dis-organize what they've put in place. Just...don't.

"I doubt she'll be as up to the task as you were," I replied, dumping the contents of my desk drawers into boxes with no particular strategy. For some reason, the whole thing was bitterly depressing me. Cora was my secretary, but she was also my friend, and we had our own strange little rituals of sharing takeout lunches, her ragging on me about being a slob, the way she took on a piddly job for piddly pay and treated it, and me, like something important and professional. She made coffee in the morning and tidied up after me, even if she did it with a slight "tsking" sound while I was sitting there. It was more like affectionate scolding from your mother than employee discontent.

"I suppose Tim will get the job of going through all this and figuring out where it goes," she said, taping shut one of my horribly jumbled boxes of desk drawer...stuff.

"Yeah, you guys keep me on track," I said, standing, setting the last little box on top of the barren desk.

"We're going to keep in touch, Don," she said, smiling, apparently thinking I looked kind of pathetic there with my long face, sad eyes, and mangy box of pens and pencils I was taping shut. "For that matter, Fred and I are going out there with the two of you today."

"I know that," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm gonna miss this, that's all," I added, blinking, wishing my eyes weren't filling up. I felt stupid.

"Your detective business?" she asked, looking concerned. "Aren't you excited about the new job?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm excited about it." And I was. It was a hell of an opportunity, and despite the fact that sometimes scared the shit out of me, I was looking forward to putting some higher thinking skills to use, making enough money so Timmy didn't have to worry about his own job situation until he found something he wanted, possibly launching our future in a better direction than my struggling PI business. "I just...I'm gonna miss...this," I said, gesturing sort of lamely. I was going to miss her, our talks, the way we worked together, some of the laughs we had. I don't bond fast and easy with people, but when I do, it pulls my guts out to lose them.

"For what it's worth, I am, too, but we won't tell Fred," she said, resting her hand on my shoulder. "I'm afraid I probably would have eventually had to make the decision to retire for good this time, because we both want to do some traveling after we're married."

"The end of an era, huh?" I asked, holding up an old Burger King bag I'd fished out from under my desk to go in the trash.

"Good God, how long has that been there?"

"There's probably a receipt in it," I said, opening the top.

"No, don't do that," she said, putting her hand over mine to keep the bag closed. "Detectives don't do well with rhetorical questions, do they?"

"Nah, not really," I agreed, laughing, tossing the bag in the trash. "We better haul ass or Fred and Timmy'll be on our backs for holding up our departure time. If you want to just have a seat for a few minutes, I'll take this stuff down to the car."

"I'm not a little shrinking violet, Don. We'll both take things downstairs. You get the file cartons, but the other stuff isn't that heavy."

"Okay," I said, grinning, picking up some of the heavier boxes while she got a couple lighter ones. We made a few trips to the car, and then made the last trip up together to lock the office.

"Now you have me doing it," she said, tearing up a little as I reached for the lights to turn them off for the last time.

"Cora, I have to say it. I may not be the brightest bulb in the fixture with some of the things I've done in my life, but hiring you was the second smartest one."

"After marrying Tim, right?"

"Yeah, sorry, he still gets top billing."

"And so he should," she replied, smiling. "I'm glad I applied for the job. It was a lot of fun working for you."

"Fun? Nobody's ever called it that before."

"Well, the money wasn't the issue for me, and being around a detective agency was pretty interesting. Spying on Fred with the travel agent, things like that," she added, and we both laughed. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That he was going to propose? The travel agent said something, didn't she?"

"He showed her the ring. Don't tell Fred. He'll kill me. He already suspects me."

"He's convinced you knew somehow. Don't worry, he won't hear it from me," she added, shaking her head. "You know, we'll always be friends, and the way Fred likes to travel, I have a feeling we'll be visiting you two more than you'll probably want us to."

"You guys are welcome anytime, you know that," I said, flipping the switch, sending our office into shadows. "By the way, you didn't work for me. We worked together."

"Thank you, Don. That's one of the nicest things I've ever had a boss say to me."

"Any of your bosses, including me, were lucky guys. They were guys, right?"

"Yes, they were all guys, although I'll give you points for not being sexist and assuming it," she replied, linking her arm through mine. "If your new secretary, whoever she - or he - might be, doesn't do the job right, you call me and I'll come down there and show her how it's done."

"Be careful what you offer," I said, laughing.

********

I wasn't surprised that Don and Cora ran late packing up his office, but I was still impatient. Fred was standing around the vacant apartment with me, speculating on what could be keeping them. And speculating, and speculating... Finally, my cell phone rang. Don's number was on the ID.

"Good heavens, how long does it take to pack a few boxes?" I snapped. It wasn't really Don's fault, it was Fred's, for getting on my nerves, and my own, for being kind of melancholy about leaving our first apartment.

"Sorry, honey. We're just leaving Cora's car at her place now, so if one of you wants to come over and get us, we can get started."

"They're at Cora's," I said to Fred.

"I'll go get 'em," he said, and he was out the door before I could respond. Apparently standing around with me in a vacant apartment was no more fun for him than it was for me.

"Fred's on his way."

"Okay. You need help with anything?"

"No, I'm good. I'll be waiting for you."

"I'll come up when I get there."

He reads my mind. I wanted us to have our moment to say goodbye to our beginning, to our first home, and he knew that.

"I love you, you know."

"I heard that rumor," he replied, laughing. "Love you, too, beautiful."

A few minutes later, he was there, coming through our door for the last time. When I saw him, it was like I relived all the times he'd come in at all sorts of different hours, when I'd gather him up in a big hug and be so glad that he was home, safe. So that's what I did, and he gave me just as good a squeeze in return.

"You probably think I'm silly," I said, swallowing, fighting tears.

"No, I just went through the same thing leaving my office," he admitted, laughing.

"I really liked our life here," I said. I couldn't help it. I did. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of. The little apartment or the money problems didn't matter. Being married to someone I adored who adored me, making a life together, making friends as a couple, figuring out how to overcome the hard things together...that's what I always wanted. And it had all started here. Well, technically, it started in the bar where we met, but I was not going to get misty-eyed over a bar.

"Me, too. But I'm taking with me the only thing I need from this place to be happy," he said, slipping his hand into mine, giving me one of his beautiful big smiles. He knows what I need to hear, and when I need to hear it. How very much I love him, and how blessed I feel to have him. So I kissed him. Not a little married people peck, but a full-out smash-mouth tongues-all-over-the-place kiss that ordinarily would have preceded pushing him back on the bed and doing it, if we had the time, or a bed. "Holy shit," he gasped, touching his mouth, wiping off a little spit that would have shown when we went downstairs.

"You sweet talker," I teased. We closed the door on our apartment, let the realization sink in that it wasn't "our apartment" anymore, and dropped off the keys to the super downstairs. Then we got in our car, and led the way to our new home, our friends and our U-Haul following close behind us.

Our drive was uneventful, and we arrived at the house by early evening. We called the neighbor Janice had left our keys with, and waited for him to arrive so we could go inside and start unloading things.

"The house is huge!" Cora said, craning her neck to take in the full three-storey view.

"Quite a spread," Fred agreed.

"The inside is beautiful, too," I said, hoping the neighbor arrived soon since the wind whipping in off the water was a bit chilly. Just as I had that thought, a white Range Rover pulled into the driveway behind us, and an older man got out, dressed in a suit, tie, and topcoat. He looked as rich as he probably was, with his neatly combed gray hair and fashionable glasses.

"Don?" he asked me, approaching with his hand out. I shook it. "I'm Graham Hilbrandt," he said.

"Don Strachey," I replied. "This is my partner, Tim Callahan," I added, and they shook hands. "These are our friends, Cora Ashton and Fred Ellerbee, from Albany. They're helping us move." After all the handshaking was over, he gestured to his right.

"My wife and I live two houses that way. We've been friends with Bill and Janice for years. I'm glad she found someone to keep an eye on the house."

"It's a great opportunity for us, since we're relocating here for Don's job with Madison Enterprises," Tim said.

"Janice said you were Steven Callahan's son," he said.

"Yes, that's right," he replied, his plastic smile in place. Bringing up Timmy's father wasn't a terribly happy topic at that time.

"Well, any son of his should be a good neighbor. I should be getting back," he said, pulling out a business card and handing it to me. "If you have any problems, just give me a call. I'm sure Janice left you painfully detailed instructions for taking care of her baby, but we're just up the road if you need help."

"Thank you, Graham, we appreciate that."

"Good luck with getting that mall open. My wife is already marking off the days until March," he joked.

"We'll do our best to stay on schedule," I replied, laughing.

After he left, we went inside and turned on some lights. Timmy and I moved the heavy stuff inside, while Fred and Cora moved some of the lightweight boxes and bags in for us. Apparently, Cora was making Fred be an honorable man until the wedding, since they each claimed their own guest rooms upstairs.

Avoiding the overly formal dining room, we all gathered around the kitchen table and made our way through a couple pizzas we ordered. We were going to take them out to a nice lunch the next day at a fancy restaurant with a waterfront view, but for that night, we were all happy to relax and stuff our faces.

We gathered in the billiard room where the big screen TV was and tuned in to some old movies playing on one of the cable networks. With some popcorn and snacks, and friends to hang out with, it felt like home. All four of us ended up snoring through the end of the final movie in our little line up, so that determined bedtime, and we said our goodnights and headed up the long staircase to our rooms.

"You wanna christen the tub?" I asked, glad Fred and Cora were visiting, but also glad to finally have a little alone time with Timmy. The way he'd licked my tonsils back in Albany, I'd been hot for him all day.

"Do you think Janice will know, wherever she is, if we splash water on the floor?"

"There's probably a sensor under the tiles," I joked, and he laughed. Her manifesto of instructions for the care and feeding of the house was longer than the exam I took for my PI license.

"Why don't you get the water running while I find some supplies."

"Supplies?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Shampoo, body wash..." he smiled. "Some slippery stuff."

"Consider the water started, among other things," I said, starting to peel off my clothes and leaving a trail behind me as I went into the bathroom.

"Clothing on the floor. Janice wouldn't approve," he called after me.

"Janice, my ass. You'll have them picked up and stashed in a hamper before I turn on the water."

"Already done." A couple second later, he appeared in the bathroom, stark naked. "I was tossing mine in there anyway," he added, his tone sultry. Fuck, just his voice can give me a raging boner. His bedroom voice is even more lethal.

"I'm just sorry I didn't get to see you bend over to pick them up."

"I might be convinced to bend over for something else before we're done here."

Those words went right straight to one place, and I was glad the tub was nearly full. I figured the tile floor would be hard on his knees, but another minute of him standing there naked and talking dirty to me, I don't know if I could have made myself worry about that.

The thing was huge (the tub, I mean) and with the hardware in the middle, we weren't at risk of getting a faucet stuck somewhere painful no matter which end we were on. We started out each sitting at our own end, but God love Timmy, he knew I was dying, so he met me in the middle, kissed the crap out of me, and gave me a hand job that left me stifling myself against his neck to avoid giving Fred and Cora a real ear-opener.

We shifted around so my back was against his chest, and he started bathing me, running this warm, soft cloth over my skin while he kissed the side of my head, nuzzled my neck. I was so relaxed, I wanted to doze off in his arms. I knew I should be taking care of him, doing something for him, but that cloth was moving over me, and I was so warm...

"Close your eyes, baby. Relax."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine," he whispered against my ear. The warm cloth kept moving, slowly. I let him fuss over me and pamper me, promising myself I'd get my second wind and make love to him the way he deserved. "I love you, beautiful man," he said softly, a smile in his voice.

That woke me up. His soft voice, and all that love directed my way. How could I waste a moment I could spent loving him, dozing off like an old man? I turned around and we started kissing. I was drawn to his beautiful chest, wet with bath water, starting to rise and fall more rapidly with our kissing and caressing. I kissed my way down the center of his chest, so focused on him that I barely noticed I was going under water until he pulled me back up with an affectionate chuckle.

"Let's go to bed before you drown yourself," he joked, kissing me.

"At least I'd go out with a big smile on my face," I replied, kissing him again, taking him in my arms, liking the feeling of our wet bodies sliding against each other. He was getting excited, getting hard, and I figured we could probably bring things to a climax right there, but I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to be inside him, but not before I'd had my mouth on all his tender, intimate places, making him crazy.

We dried off and went back into the bedroom. Fortunately, Timmy had the foresight to turn back the bed before our bath so we didn't immediately face the dilemma of cleaning the expensive bedspread. He stretched out on the bed, on his stomach, and gave me this sweet, shy little smile over his shoulder that just melted me.

I blanketed his body with mine, kissing his neck, his shoulders, kissing a path down his spine. I wanted him so much, all of him... As my lips came near his tail bone, I used my tongue more, let myself taste his sweet skin, savored him, teased him the way I know he loves. He made this sexy little purring sound, shifting around a bit. He knew where I was headed, and he was as anxious as I was for me to get there.

I urged him to raise up a little and stuffed a pillow under him. I planned to be there a while, and there was no reason for him not to be comfortable. I carefully eased one cheek back a bit from his center, kissing along the inside of it, licking, nipping, going low, tasting that tender skin in the warmest place between his legs, behind his balls and before his center. I let myself suck it just a little, not enough to irritate him, just enough to make him squirm, to leave my tiny pink mark there. Reluctantly, I moved up a bit, leaving that sweet spot and kissing and licking just inside the curve of the other cheek now, loving how he moved a little restlessly, knowing he loved what I was doing and was frustrated by it at the same time.

I held him open as tenderly as I could, and ran my tongue over him, letting it dance over the puckered flesh, not quite giving him the main event just yet. Then I blew on him.

"Don...oh, fuck..." he gasped. I smiled. He was already to profanity and I hadn't even put my tongue in there yet. I licked him again, and the way he arched his back had me aching to be inside him. The curves of his shoulders and back and that beautiful ass made my cock twitch and my mouth water. I couldn't decide what I wanted more - to taste him or enter him. The truth was, I wanted both, and I just hoped I had the self-control to last through making love to him the way I wanted to.

So I settled there and worked at convincing that snug little pucker to relax and let my tongue go in deep until he was gasping and holding onto the sheets, until he spread his legs more and opened himself more so he could take me in deeper. He didn't have to tell me when he was getting close, because I know him. I know his body and his noises and his moves, and I love each and every one of them.

I found the little tube of gel and slipped a finger into him slowly, working it in, preparing him like he was a virgin. The truth was, I just wanted to touch him more, to prolong it, to keep doing things to him that felt good, to show him how much I love him...for all the thousands of little things he does for me, all the touches and the smiles and the ice bags and the back rubs and the arms that hold me when I hurt and that soft voice that says things I didn't even know I needed to hear until I hear them.

When I entered him, it was slow and easy, as much for me as for him. I never get over that feeling of his body taking me in, his muscles closing around me and giving me pleasure and joy the way he gives me so much joy in every other part of our lives. I nosed his soft hair and inhaled the scent of it and his neck, I kissed his back and rubbed his shoulders. He pressed back against me, taking me in deep, making me feel wanted, like he always makes me feel. Even when I crawl into bed at three in the morning and wake him up and I know he's tired...he's always got a kiss for me, or he rolls over and snuggles with me...sometimes on a cold night, he wraps me all up in his arms and makes sure my cold feet are drawing warmth from his.

He did that when we were newlyweds, and he does it now. His love for me never fades or changes, and I adore him more every minute I'm alive.

We came within a few seconds of each other, and what we lost in our connection, we made up for in our embrace, shifting around so we were facing each other, pulling the covers up, turning out the lights, sharing a pillow and losing ourselves in long, leisurely kisses.

"That was special," he whispered there in the shadows.

"I love you, Timothy," I replied. It was all I could say. I can't think of enough things I could do for him or to him to show him what I feel.

"I know. I'm a pretty lucky man," he said, smiling. It was that cute, sweet, happy smile that is so Timmy. "I love you, too," he added, kissing my nose.

I let myself drift. I was tired, worn out, sated, and utterly content. Timmy's heart was beating close to my ear and his warmth was all around me. Whatever heaven is, it can't be any better than that.

********

For a moment when I opened my eyes, I wasn't sure where I was. Then I recognized the ornate surroundings of the suite we occupied in the Davis's house. And, more importantly, I smiled when I looked down at Don, hugging me like a body pillow, snoring softly, drooling a little on my chest. While I appreciated Fred and Cora helping us bring the U-Haul there, and it was nice to visit with them, I was wishing we could just lie there together until noon. As it was, judging by the sunlight coming through the window, we weren't really getting an early start. I craned my neck to see the alarm clock on the night stand. It was after nine.

"I don't care what time it is," Don announced.

"We should be decent hosts and go downstairs," I said, smiling, running my fingers through his hair. I couldn't get over how wonderful our night was, and I didn't want it to end either. We didn't have many more lazy mornings left. He was supposed to start training for the new job soon, and I knew he'd be working long hours once it all started.

"Fred and Cora can wing it for a few more minutes," he said, raising up and kissing me. Then he gave me a big smile. "Because I'm really in love with you," he said, resting his folded hands on my chest and then resting his chin on them.

"What a happy coincidence," I joked, stroking his hair. "I'm crazy about you, too."

"Then we're on the same page here, huh?"

"Always," I said, hugging him, rolling us over and tackling him, kissing him all over his face and tickling his sides and making him laugh. The friction felt good on my morning erection, and it was apparently working for him, too, because we started rubbing off on each other, kissing, making out, taking the quick route to satisfaction.

Sated and sticky, we kissed and cuddled in the afterglow. And froze when there was a knock on the door.

"Did we lock it?" I whispered to Don.

"I didn't."

There was another knock. "Don? Tim?" It was Cora's voice.

"We'll be down in a few minutes," Don called to her.

"I wouldn't have bothered you but someone is downstairs asking to see you. She's very insistent," she added.

"Well, I need to jump in the shower first, so tell her she'll have to wait a bit. What does she want, anyway?"

"She asked if she could talk to the detective who just moved in. She won't elaborate."

"Okay," he said, sitting up. "Thanks, Cora," he added.

"I don't think you meant that," I teased, sitting up next to him, kissing his shoulder.

"How about keeping me company?"

"You'll never get down there in a few minutes if I do that. You go ahead. I'll shower and shave while you go find out who's down there."

"I think you're more interested in it than I am. Besides, I'm not in the detective business anymore, so why is somebody here looking for me for that?"

"I guess you'll have to go talk to her to find out," I said, kissing his biceps, caressing it. I have a thing for those muscles of his. He gave me a knowing grin, and then balled up his fists and tensed everything up, giving me a bodybuilder pose, growling a little. "Oh, my God," I said, laughing. He cracked up then, too.

"If my muscles turn you on, far be it from me to deny you," he said, getting out of bed. I enjoyed watching him walk naked toward the bathroom. He noticed me checking him out from all angles, lying there, hugging a pillow, keeping my eye on that lovely posterior of his. I had even put my glasses on for just that purpose.

"Just...perfect," I sighed, grinning at him.

********

I knew we had to get a move on and not be rude to Fred and Cora by staying in the sack all morning, but I still resented being rushed by someone looking for a detective. I left that behind in Albany. It wasn't up to Cora to screen my visitors when she was my guest, so I got dressed in jeans and a burgundy sweater Timmy got me because he likes that color on me. Even when I had my jeans on, he was checking out my ass as I left the room. I guess all that lovemaking had made my Timothy a very horny boy. I was hoping that meant another very good night. 

When I arrived downstairs, Fred, Cora, and a woman who looked to be about sixty-five were sitting in the living room drinking coffee.

"Don, this is Angela Drew," Cora said, and I approached the woman where she sat and shook her extended hand. She was a small, slightly built lady with hair dyed blonde. She wore a casual outfit with a sweater that looked soft and fuzzy, like cashmere.

"I understand you're looking for a detective," I said. "I have to be honest - I'm not in that line of work now, so I'm not sure how I can help you."

"There's no subtle way to say this, but you might be the only person who can help me."

"Why? I don't mean to be blunt, but most of the folks around here are pretty affluent, so it's not that big a deal to hire a private investigator."

"Maybe not, but there aren't many gay ones wandering around, and I need someone gay to help me."

"Excuse me?"

"Twenty years ago, my son, Nathan, disappeared," she said, opening her purse and pulling out a photo, handing it to me. The boy in the photo looked like he was about sixteen, his long hair, earring, and colorful outfit in keeping with the styles of the 80's. "The police investigated, but it was obvious they thought he was a runaway... I tried hiring private investigators, but I don't think they took it seriously, either. They racked up a lot of hours, and a lot of money, but they never found anything. It was like the earth opened and swallowed him up."

"A lot of times, cops write off missing kids as runaways. And I suppose you can pay people to look for someone but you can't control their opinions of the case. I don't understand why my sexual orientation has any bearing on anything."

"Nathan was gay. And he was open about it, which you know didn't make him popular. It wouldn't exactly make his life easy today, but back then, it was even worse. I don't think he ran away. I think he was murdered."

"Because he was gay?"

"He was very close with another boy, Graham Hilbrandt, Jr."

"We just met his father yesterday," Cora said.

"After Nathan disappeared, Graham swore they were just friends, and his parents were outraged that I would suggest anything else. All I know is that Graham Hilbrandt, Sr., would never let something like a gay romance interfere with his son's future."

"So you think the Hilbrandts had something to do with your son's disappearance?" I asked, sitting on the edge of a chair.

"I don't know. But he was harassed at school, there was his relationship with Graham, and I know it meant more to him than friendship...and he wouldn't have run away. I thought maybe someone who was gay, and a private investigator himself might look at the case with fresh eyes."

"Mrs. Drew, you realize that after all these years, it's not likely we'd find a good outcome?"

"I know that," she said, smiling sadly. "I've known that since we realized Nathan was missing. I knew he wouldn't run away, and even if he had, he'd have never stayed away so long and made me worry. We were close."

"I think it's worthwhile for you to have someone else investigate the case, if you can't get the police to investigate it. Nowadays, a lot of police departments have cold case detectives - "

"They're not interested. They said there's nothing to suggest the original investigation overlooked anything, and it's not as if there's some kind of DNA evidence in a locker somewhere that we can test now, that we couldn't before. Those are the kinds of cases they like to reopen. When I heard about you, I thought maybe there was hope."

"The thing is, I'm not in that business now. I closed my PI business and relocated here to work with Madison Enterprises. It's not that I don't sympathize with your situation." I handed her the photo, and I felt a little guilty about it. "I just don't have the time to devote to it now."

"Couldn't we do a few things before you get started at the new job?" Cora asked. "At least some computer searches?"

"I cancelled all my subscriptions and memberships to those databases when we closed the office. I may end up having access to that again through Madison Enterprises, but it won't be something I can use to run a PI business on the side." I was a little irritated that Cora was trying to pressure me into it, but I didn't blame her too much. Mrs. Drew's situation was sad, and I felt for her, but the last thing I needed when I started a new job and all kinds of training was to be distracted trying to investigate a missing persons case. "I know a couple of good PI firms in New York City, and I'd be glad to recommend someone - "

"No, thank you, Mr. Strachey," she said, standing. She laid the photo on the coffee table. "I have plenty of copies," she added. "Congratulations on your new job. I can see myself out."

"Mrs. Drew - "

"It's all right," she said, holding up her hand. "It was a long time ago, and to the rest of the world, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry I disturbed you," she concluded, striding toward the front door and outside, slamming it behind her. When I walked into the foyer, Timmy was on the stairs.

"What was that all about?" he asked, frowning.

"Her son disappeared twenty-some years ago, and she wanted me to take on the case of finding out what happened to him."

"Didn't you tell her you have another job now?"

"Yes, I told her. Her son was gay, and she thought because I was, too, I'd take it more seriously."

"Oh," he said, appearing to ponder that a moment. "Well, maybe you could recommend someone - "

"I offered. Didn't go over well."

"Are you sure you can't get back on those databases?" Cora asked. "Or, I could. If she'll pay for that, I could look some things up for her, just as a favor. You showed me how to do that."

"Cora, I can't take on her case. What if you do find something? Who's going to follow it up? If someone killed this kid back then, they might not be opposed to doing away with someone snooping into the case now. I take those risks because I'm the licensed, trained investigator, but for you to stir something up and get hurt or put yourself in danger? I'm not going to be part of that."

"I don't think I'd be shot sitting at my monitor typing in some searches."

"People have been shot at their computers before."

"Cora, if Don isn't taking on the case, we should probably trust his judgment," Fred interjected. That earned him an icy look. He wisely said nothing more. But he was right. Timmy's my partner, and I had a feeling he'd stick up for me, and he did.

"It would be irresponsible for Don to encourage you to do something like that. And, as he said, if he's too busy to follow up the leads, what's the point?"

"Well, I just feel sorry for that poor woman, and if the office were still open, you'd jump on that case, Don," she said.

"You're right, if it was, I would, but it's not, and I can't."

"There's really no point in making this day unpleasant over this," Tim said. "I'm sure that lady is affluent enough to afford to hire a reputable PI firm, and if she didn't want Don's help choosing one, we can't blame him for focusing on the job he's been hired for. He made a decision to quit the PI business, and there's no way with the pressure that will be on him soon that he could investigate a major missing persons case, which is possibly a homicide." 

"I'm not trying to pressure you, Don. I just think we could do something for her, just so she doesn't feel like we blew her off."

"If she wants my help finding another PI, she knows where to find me. Meanwhile, let's fix some breakfast."

Timothy gave me an odd look, and I know he read me better than I wanted him to. When Mrs. Drew sat there and told her story and pulled out the picture of her son, I remembered all the things I liked about being a PI, the reasons I chose it for a job in the first place. It took all my willpower to turn her down, and to focus my energy on the new job. I liked John Madison, and I was sure the new job would have its good points, not the least of which was a steady salary so I could lay Timothy's fears to rest about his own temporary unemployment, but I've always been a free agent by nature, and I should have known that eventually, I'd end up back to being what I was apparently meant to be.

I think Timmy knew it at that moment, though he never said so in so many words. Even though he rails against my weird schedule and the danger every now and then, I might have married the only wonderful, beautiful, caring man in the world who ultimately decides my happiness is more important than his peace of mind, who believes that in forcing me to change my habits, he'd lose a piece of me, and he wants all the pieces of me, even the icky ones that tick him off.

He didn't know why I hugged him while we were making breakfast, and I think Fred and Cora just laughed it off as cute, that we were newlyweds. I didn't know just how remarkably good to me he would be in the coming years, but if our first year was any indication, I was in for a wonderful life. So I hugged him for no reason, because when you love someone like I love him, you should do that. A lot. Life is sick and cruel and twisted, and you never know when that person won't be there. So I hug Timmy every chance I get. And kiss him, and sit close to him, and hold his hand, and make love to him, and buy him flowers.

I hugged him and he smiled at me with so much love that I felt my knees get weak. He still smiles at me that way, and my knees still turn into jelly when he does. There's no pain or fear or uncertainty in my body or spirit that he can't ease with his love. Knowing I did something to deserve him makes me work hard to be a better man. Because I never want to do something bad enough that would make me deserve to lose him.

And, if putting off playing Sherlock Holmes for awhile kept him happy and safe and provided for while he got back on his feet, it was a small price to pay for living up to the only job title I care about keeping for a lifetime - Timothy's Hero.

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