Date: Wed, 19 Jul 2000 18:48:24 EDT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Beneath It All 4

Here's part 4 of my Nick story.  As mentioned in the last Mirrors, there
are only two Mirrors instalments left, and then this will be my only online
story until the end of the BIA run.  But with these two stories, all of my
offline writing, a full time job, a fledgling social life, and some
downtime, the schedule is tight.

In other words, PLEASE don't email me to beg for quicker posting!  It's not
gonna happen -- these go up when they go up.  Rushing will mean a sharp
drop in quality, and I refuse to do that.

But thanks for showing interest. :)

And thanks to DLS, for helping to create this BIA world, and for reading
through to make it a better piece of work than I could do on my own.  If
Matt hadn't snapped you up, then I sure as heck . . . . well, I don't think
I'd have snapped you up either way. :)

I love email -- even if my replies sometimes take a while -- so that's an
option for you.  thepoetboy@hotmail.com

On with the show!

***

Part 4

The morning sun passed unnoticed, as did the sounds of breakfast being
eaten and the dishes washed and put away.  Only when Denny had nosed her
way through the door and began her slow climb up onto the bed, in search of
a warm place to nap the late morning and the afternoon that stretched ahead
away, did finally finally start to wake up.

He smiled as the dog layed down at his side, with her head stretched along
the pillow.  One of Nick's arms flopped over her side and casually
scratched the old dog's belly.

She shifted, pushing her head back against his face so Nick was left
breathing through the warm scented fur.  He breathed deeply, and the smile
spread.

Nick continued to scratch her stomach until the muscles in his hand grew
tired and sore.  He noticed how high the sun seemed, how bright the room
was, but pushed the thoughts aside as he started to slip back into sleep.

There was a knock at the door.

Nick squinted his eyes tightly, but gave up quickly.  "Yeah?" he said into
the dog's fur.

"You missed breakfast, kiddo."  AJ's voice caused Nick's eyes to force
themselves shut even further.  "Which is the last thing I'd expect you to
do."

"I'm just tired."  Nick's voice was level and deadened.  His sore hand went
back to rubbing the dog's stomach, and Denny let out a deep grumble of
appreciation.

There was a moment of silence, a pregnant moment, where each expected more,
and neither was comfortable with more existing.

"You okay, Nickie?"

"I'm fine."

"Alright.  I'm gonna be downstairs if you want to talk."

Denny's ear flicked, landing lightly on Nick's forehead.  He smiled at
that.

"Bye," Nick said, sinking back into the dog's warmth and the sleep that
waited for him.

AJ waited for a moment, expecting something else to happen, some returned
jibe.  Eventually he just pulled the door silently closed and went back
downstairs.

***

The barking woke him up next.  Then he heard a whistle, somewhere else in
the house, and then the bark again, much closer.  He pushed his head off
the pillow to see Denny standing at the closed door, slowly wagging her
tail back and forth.  She turned to him, imploring him to open the door so
she could go to her whistling master.

Nick smiled and climbed out of the bed, feeling the pull of his tight
muscles and limping his way to the door.  Denny slipped through as soon as
it was open enough and went directly for the back stairs.

There was another whistle and another bard in response.  Nick smiled and
picked up his bathrobe before heading for the stairs, intending to follow
the whistle to the same source.

***

"Morning, John."  Nick sat down on the front porch swing, watching as John
tossed a tennis ball for the dog to retrieve.

John turned his head towards the house and smiled.  "Mid-afternoon, Nick."

Nick blinked.  "What time is it?"

The ball was tossed again before John touched a button on his wrist.  A
computerized voice stated the time as two thirty-six, PM.  "Must be tiring
to raise a barn and swat off teenage girls," John said with a laugh.

"Exhausting," Nick replied, without attaching humour.  There was a time
when yesterday would have passed without causing him to break a sweat.

"Ready for breakfast?  I can whip something up."

"No, thanks.  I grabbed something from the fridge already."

John nodded.  Denny was pushing her head up against his leg, with the old
tennis ball in her mouth.  She didn't give it up easily, but she made sure
she didn't wander out of his reach.

Nick idly wondered who was playing with who.

"Your friends went over to the next farm to check out the horses."

"Shouldn't take them long.  They don't ride much."

"Ah well, at least they're starting to take advantage of the area."  He
finally pulled the wet ball out from Denny's mouth and threw it again.

"What happens if you lose a ball?" Nick asked.

"Pardon?"  John's head swung back towards the house.

"What happens if you lose a ball?"

John grinned again.  "I've got others.  Michael keeps an eye out for them
when he cuts the lawn too.  And if Denny stumbles across one, she usually
drops it on the porch, which leads to many fun moments for me."

Nick's eyes narrowed.  "Tripping?"

"I've fallen so many times I sometime wonder how that porch hasn't broken
through."

The comment was so free of shame, so separate from any embarrassment that
Nick finally smiled.  He wished he could approach his own history with such
openness.

"So what're you up to today, Nick?"

"Not much," Nick replied.  "I'm feeling pretty drained.  I'll probably
stick around here and rest."

"Then you'll be holding down the fort alone.  I've got to head into town
for a couple of hours."

Nick's head tilted.  "What?  Why?"

"I'm being taken out for coffee by an old friend.  I'll be back for dinner
though, so decide what you want and I'll pick up groceries while I'm gone."

"Can I tag along?"

John shook his head and bent down, wiping the dog spit off of his hands and
onto the grass.  When Denny came back with the ball, he ignored her.  Her
tail eventually stopped wagging but her big eyes never looked away from
John's face.

"Sorry, Nick.  This old friend and I have some stuff to discuss that a
third person would find pretty dull."

There were extra layers to the words, and Nick couldn't help but read into
it.  "Old girlfriend?"

John turned his head away, like he was listening for something on the road.
"Something like that."

Now Nick could hear the sound of a car approaching.  He looked across the
fields to see a cloud of dust rising off the road.

"Current girlfriend?"

"No, Nick.  I'm a single man these days."

The car made the turn into the driveway.  It was a beat up blue hatchback.
A large crack split the windshield.

Nick pulled his bathrobe closer to his body and stepped off the porch to
stand next to John.  "That car's seen better days."

"Really?" John said.  "I hadn't noticed."  He turned towards Nick to make
sure the younger man saw the sarcastic smile.  "Denny, take care of Nick
for me.  Make sure he doesn't torch the place."

The dog nuzzled her owner's thigh.

The car finally pulled to a stop and the engine cut out with a high pitched
scraping sound.  John started walking towards the car as a tall, dark
haired man climbed out of the driver's side door.

"Hey, Johnny," the man said, putting his hand out and bringing it up under
John's elbow.  With a nod to Nick, he started leading the blind man to the
passenger door.

Denny started to follow, but then stopped and turned back.  She nuzzled
Nick's thigh with a quiet whine.  Nick scratched her ears and she quickly
fell silent.

"See you in a few hours," John called, before his door was closed.

"Yeah," Nick whispered quietly.

***

He'd left the door open for the dog.  Ever since John had left, she kept
pacing, but she never went too far away from Nick.  So, as he lay back in
his bath, she wandered in and out of the bathroom, just to make sure he was
still there.

He could hear her whines as she went from room to room.  Every so often she
would stop at the top of the stairs, staring down, but then she'd continue
her pacing.

But she wasn't the only one.  Nick's mind was wandering further, and was
just as troubled.  It moved against the calming warmth of the bath, the
gentle wrinkling of his skin under the water.

His body slowly gave in to the warm water and his tired mind, and soon he
was beyond hearing the whining from the hallway.

***

The ringing phone brought him back.  The phones were old, using actual
bells instead of electronic sounds.  His eyes jerked open and he quickly
sat up in the cold bathwater.

Denny looked up with sad eyes from where she'd finally settled down to rest
on the bath mat, watching as he pulled himself out of the water and into
his bathrobe.  She followed as he dripped his way to the hall phone.

"Hullo?"  Nick's voice was gravelly and rough.  His arms were doing nothing
to return any heat to his body, and he shivered.

"Hey, Nickie -- it's Brian."

Nick's face lit up.  "How's it going?  You going to come over and visit us
at any point?"

"Sorry, Nickie, but things look pretty busy around here.  The place is
thick with relatives, but I'm betting they're not all blood."  Brian
laughed.  "They're coming out of the woodwork.  How're things?"

"Good," Nick said, clearing his throat and hoping the disappointment hadn't
leaked through.

Brian sighed.  "Sorry, Nickie.  But next week, back on the road and it's
just you and me again.  No more fiancees or families or anything.  I'll
make it up to you then."

"Don't worry about it, Bri.  I've been keeping busy."

"Yeah, I heard.  John, right?"

Nick paused for a moment and then continued carefully.  "Howie mentioned
him?"

"Just the basics.  Damn good cook.  Blind.  Sweet guy.  That sorta stuff."

"I've been chumming around with him.  He's a great guy."  Nick made sure he
was dry enough before sitting down on the chair that was attached to the
telephone table.  It looked old and delicate, but it didn't so much as
creak under his weight.

"So what were you two up to when I rudely interrupted?"

"I was having a bath," Nick smiled, "and John's gone into town with his
ex."

Brian laced his words with sarcastic sensuality.  "Was she hot?"

"No," Nick deadpanned.  "He wasn't."

There was a pause.  "He?"

"Good cook.  Blind.  Sweet.  Gay."

"Oh."  Brian took a moment to recover his sense of humour and to find an
opening.  "Can blind people be gay?"  He held the question seriously for a
few moments before he started laughing.

Nick grinned.  "They're being pretty free with the moonshine this week,
aren't they?"

"Country bumpkins know how to have a good time," Brian said with another
laugh.  "And the food!  Man, being around here could convince me to give up
the group!"

Nick's smile slowly reshaped into something more wistful, and his thoughts
traced routes that had been playing in his mind since he'd arrived at that
house.  "I know what you mean," he said softly.

He'd found himself thinking more and more about the slower pace of the
country, and of the seemingly endless pitfalls of city life.  Maybe, he
thought, if I'd grown up out here, things would have been better.  It
worked for Brian.  There'd never been a greater guy put on the planet than
Brian -- no-one more well rounded, more friendly, sweeter.

No-one, except maybe John.  A product of the same place, the same slower
way of life and the work and family that come from wide open spaces.

Nick tried to think of someone who came from a city, was created by a city,
who wasn't jaded, or pessimistic, or free from all of the crap that
surrounded them, but he came up with no-one.

There were nice people, but none who were as truly pure as these two, none
who had the outlook and love of life and people that these two possessed.

"Nickie?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"If I wanted to listen to silence, I could have just stuck my head in the
ground."

Nick laughed.  "Sorry, what do you wanna talk about?"

"Tell me about this John guy."

After a smile and silent sigh, Nick did.

***

The clock on his dresser had just hit four when Nick heard a car coming up
the gravel driveway.  He put his comb back down and finished buttoning his
blue short sleeve shirt on the way to the balcony.

For a moment his chest did feel tight.  He was alone there, with the dog,
in the middle of nowhere.  No-one had even locked the doors, but he pushed
the feeling back.

He felt safe there.  He really did.

Down below Nick could see the old hatchback.  The tall man had parked as
close to the house as the driveway got and was leading John back to the
porch.  They were laughing together.  The stranger waved when he saw Nick
watching them from above, and Nick waved back.

But he didn't move to go down, not until the man had climbed back into his
small car and disappeared down the road, back to where-ever he came from.

He could hear Denny excitedly dancing in the kitchen, still letting out low
barks to welcome her master home.  The stairs creaked loudly as he went
downstairs, too tired to avoid the creakers.

John turned towards the stairs as Nick cleared the last few, and smiled as
he knelt and scratched Denny's stomach.  John's grocery bags were piled on
the counter.  "I told you I'd be back for dinner."

"I didn't doubt ya.  Though I don't think Denny had as much faith as I
did."

"She worries for me, don't ya, girl?  You think you're my mother, don't
ya?"

Nick sat at the kitchen table and rested his chin on his crossed arms.  His
blond hair flopped down over his eyes, but he let it stay there.

"How was your afternoon?"

John finally eased himself down to sit on the kitchen floor, realising that
the dog wouldn't be letting him go for a while yet.  "Not bad.  I don't get
into town much, so it's always nice.  Chaotic, but nice.  Eating someone
else's cooking is a good change, for once."

Nick smiled slightly.  "So that was your ex-girlfriend?"

John laughed.  "Yeah.  But you can't tell my brother that Jeff was around.
Those two never got along."

"Cause he's a guy?"

"Well, that, and because Jeff's always been one to let me have some
freedom, whereas my brother likes a bit more control.  And because I was
enough trouble being blind," he grinned, "and gay was an unnecessary
complication."

Nick's smile spread a bit, and he finally pushed his bangs back.  "He
seemed pretty cozy for an ex."

"We're still really good friends."  John's scratching of Denny had slowly
stopped, but she was apparently still quite happy to just have his hand on
her tummy.
  "He keeps me sane."

"Well, if you ever need some more sanity, I'll offer my services."  Nick's
smile finally developed the little lip curl.  He'd become very conscious of
it over the years, since it was the one sign that the smile was truly
sincere, rather than posed.

"Yeah, what does a celebrity singer know about sanity?  I've heard about
your tours, remember."

"We all have our moments," Nick said, with a laugh.

"I need something a bit less fleeting than moments," John said, standing
up.  Denny rolled back onto her stomach and looked up at him with large,
sad eyes.  John's hand felt for the counter and he made his way into the
front hall.

"Sometimes," Nick said quietly, "moments are all you get."

He thought John was out of hearing range, that Denny would be the only one
listening, but a reply came anyway.  "Then maybe it's time to reached for
more, Nickie."  And then John was climbing the front stairs, heading for
his room.

***

Half an hour later, Nick was still sitting at the kitchen table.  Denny had
come to visit, resting her big head on his lap for a proper ear scratching.
Her eyes were blissfully shut, as if her dreams were coming true just
because of a light scratching.

Nick was envious of that.  Of any dream that was so simple to achieve, of
anything that could cause such contented happiness.

A smile was perched on his lips as he watched the sleeping pup.  "Lucky
dog.
  I can't find anyone to scratch my ears."

Denny opened an eye and looked up at him for a moment before being lost
again.

Some dreams you have to take, he decided.  Sometimes you just have to plop
your head in a stranger's lap and hope for . . .

No, that wasn't right, he thought with a laugh.  You just have to let
people know what you want.  That was the advantage dogs had over people,
they have no aversion to taking risks with people, if it could result in
what they want.

They'll dance, roll over, hold paws in the air, just for a chance at some
food.  They'll wander like lost souls, crying and moaning until their
masters return.

Whereas Nick kept those processes internal, they never showed beyond his
skin.

He could already hear John coming down the back stairs, as could Denny,
judging from her tail, which was slowly wagging faster and faster.  But she
didn't dare move her head away, not yet.

But for Nick, not yet was passed.  He screwed up his courage -- a harder
core of performance anxiety than he'd ever faced on stage, and waited.
Listening to the sounds of John on the stairs.

Denny finally pulled her head away when John reached the last few stairs,
and she limped over to him.  The sweat that had formed on Nick's hands was
quickly wiped away on his jeans.

"So, what're you up for tonight, Nick?  Lasagna?  We could do stuffed
peppers as long as Michael hasn't be raiding the veggies for his lunches."

John settled into his familiar spot by the stove as he tried to decide.
Nick stood, took a deep breath, and walked over to stand beside him.  He
made sure to stand closer than he usually would have, close enough that his
shoulder was almost touching John's, just slightly behind.

There was a moment when John's head raised a bit, when he processed the
sensations and figured out where Nick was.  And, Nick could swear, a small
smile played across John's face.

"On second though," John said, "peppers might not be the best things for
your breath."  His elbow went out, smacking Nick in the stomach.  "And
you're breath's bad enough already."

They both laughed, but neither moved away.

"So what do you want, Nick?  You decided?"

"Yeah," Nick said softly.  "I think I have."

***

End part 4.

thepoetboy@hotmail.com