Date: Sat, 19 Jul 2008 10:44:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: justinr_88@yahoo.com
Subject: Love is All that Matters chapter 23

Do not read further if you are not of legal age to do so.
The medical conditions and prison procedures portrayed in
this chapter and the next are not intended to represent
actual scenarios. All the usual disclaimers apply.


RECAP: Trying to make up for his role in the gay bashing
that left Dean in a coma, Harrison affected a disastrous
date between Dean and Reid. Realizing that Dean still had
unresolved feelings for his unfaithful ex-boyfriend Marc,
Harrison gave some advice to Marc, who was also pining after
Dean. Meanwhile, Caleb met his new cellmate. 26-year-old
Julian is handsome, blond and infuriatingly cheerful, not to
mention an overly enthusiastic bottom. But his hard truths
cause Caleb to lash out, putting Julian in hospital and
leaving Caleb feeling extremely guilty.



                  LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS

                       ~ Chapter 23 ~



From the Narrative of Caleb Fisher:

After spending a sleepless night and picking at my breakfast
the next morning, there were no words to describe the relief
I felt when I finally spotted Max patrolling the corridors.

"Max!" I called out.

He sighed and walked over to my cell door. "Rob warned me
you'd be looking for me this morning. I came prepared with
news of the kid."

"How is he?" I asked urgently.

"Well, they've transferred him to the county hospital. The
infirmary doesn't exactly have the equipment for surgery -"

"Surgery?" I echoed, feeling sick to the pit of my stomach
as all sorts of awful images flashed before my eyes. "I
didn't hit him that hard!"

Max gave me a weird look. "This wasn't anything to do with
you or anyone else hitting him. He had appendicitis."

"Oh," was the only reply I could muster. Suddenly everything
seemed to add up. I guess that in my stressed out state I
had missed the obvious. My sole comfort now was the
knowledge that I couldn't possibly have caused Julian's
appendicitis, although - and I winced at the memory of him
curled up in pain - I probably hadn't helped matters either
by dealing him that accidental blow to his gut.

"So he's going to be okay?" I sought confirmation.

"Yeah, the hospital sent word this morning that he was out
of danger, although they'll be keeping him there for a
couple of days to make sure no infection develops. He'll
probably have to stay in the infirmary for a while longer
when he returns, before being released back into general
population."

I bowed my head and mumbled a thank you under my breath.
Looking up, I found Max eyeing my curiously. "You'll let me
know if you get any other news about Julian, won't you?" I
asked hurriedly.

Max shrugged. "If there's any news, yeah."

"Thanks, Max."

"No problem, Cal."

I watched him go before collapsing backwards onto my bunk.
Worrying can be quite exhausting. Of course, Julian being on
the road to recovery wasn't the end of my worries. There was
still the problem of how I could make up it to him for my
bad-tempered tirade, but I knew it would come to me, in
time. And based on what Max had said about Julian's expected
recovery period, time was something I had only too much of.


From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:

I stood on the doorstep of Dean's apartment building,
feeling like an idiot. I'd pressed the button next to his
name for the third time, and there was still no reply. This
is why, I told myself, you should always call up to
determine if someone's home before deciding to drop in on
them. But it was Saturday morning; where could he have gone?

Just as I was about to leave, Dean's voice came over the
intercom. "Hello?" He sounded a little flustered.

"Good morning, Dean. It's me, Harrison. I'm sorry; did I
wake you?" I checked my watch. It was almost half past ten.

"Uh, no. Um ... come on up." The door buzzed open and I made
my way upstairs.

Dean opened the door, while trying in vain to smooth his
mussed-up hair. "Come in."

I walked into the living room to find we were not alone in
the apartment - Marc was standing next to the sofa, trying
his best to look casual.

"You're here early," I told him. For some reason, my words
made him blush. Then I noticed that his shirt was buttoned
the wrong way, with the top one completely undone, revealing
a lightly hairy chest. Put together with the fact they were
both looking flustered, it quickly dawned on me what was
going on.

"Looks like I was wrong. I should've asked what time you
arrived last night," I teased. Now both of them blushed.

I grinned but couldn't help shaking my head. "So I hope you
won't think it's too forward of me asking this: is this a
permanent reconciliation or ...?"

"Well ..." They looked at each other, and then Dean slipped
his hand into Marc's.

"I rather hope it will last this time," Dean said softly.

Marc gazed affectionately at Dean. "I swear I will never do
another thing to hurt him."

"I'm glad to hear that. At least I can chalk up one happy
couple."

Dean looked concerned. "Is everything fine between you and
Josh?"

"Yes." I recalled our conversation in bed the previous
night. "Well, we have our moments, but Josh loves me too
much - sometimes I feel more than I love him."

"I felt the same way, too. I didn't feel worthy of Dean
after what I'd done. But he accepted me back - that was
really great of him," said Marc.

"Don't be an idiot. The most important thing was that we
loved each other. Besides, if I hadn't accepted you back,
you'd have been moping around in my hallway for the rest of
the year and making it damned inconvenient." Dean grinned at
his boyfriend.

I smiled to see both of them, obviously very much in love
with each other.

Dean turned to me. "Hey, you know what. We should go out
together one of these days."

"Actually," I said, "that's the reason I came over. Although
I was only planning on extending an invitation for one - but
I'm sure Josh won't mind Marc tagging along now that you two
are together again. You've never been to Josh's caf‚, the
Surf `n' Sand, have you?"

They both shook their heads.

"Well, the Surf Fest is next week and-"

Marc interrupted. "Oh, that's right. The Surf `n' Sand is
hosting the after-party, isn't it?"

"How'd you know that?"

Marc grinned. "I'm a journalist, remember? I'm supposed to
cover the Fest for the Corona Times."

"Oh, right. Well, that's perfect then. We can all meet up at
the caf‚. Although I can't promise you I'll be very free -
I'm supposed to help Josh out with the party." I noticed
Dean was looking a little uncomfortable. "Is something the
matter?"

"Well ... it's just that ... Reid will be there, right?"

"Yes, of course, he's taking part in the competition ..." My
voice trailed off as I realized what Dean was getting at.
"You're afraid that it'll be awkward. You needn't worry;
Reid's a great guy. He doesn't bear grudges, not even
against me - which is a big deal considering I practically
stole his boyfriend. Trust me, he'll probably be your best
friend before the night is over."

Dean said, "Well, he was very polite and kind of sweet, not
to mention very hot." You're telling me, I thought to
myself, still able to see Reid's gorgeous naked body in my
mind's eye. I don't think I'll ever forget that.

Dean was saying, "Frankly, it's amazing that a catch like
him doesn't have a boyfriend."

I shrugged. "I'm sure he'll find one - it just won't be me
arranging it. I've been banned from matchmaking in the
future. Shit, look at the time. I'm supposed to help my
sister babysit her son. Mom usually does it, but Alan's
really quite active and the doctor has ordered her to have
as much rest as possible."

"Aww, you're looking after your nephew. How old is he?"

"One and a half," I replied.

"Okay then, we'd better not keep you from your task. We'll
see you at the Surf Fest."

"Yeah, see you then. And you two kids stay out of trouble,
okay?" I grinned.

Dean said pointedly, "Goodbye!"

"I'm going, I'm going. You don't need to be so obviously
eager to get rid of me. And don't let any other visitors
up!" I left quickly before either of them could grab
anything to throw at me.



From the Narrative of Caleb Fisher:

It was several days later that Max got my attention by
rapping on the bars of my cell.

"Your guy's just been transferred back in from the County
Hospital; he's been assigned a bed in the infirmary till
he's fully recovered." With that announcement he turned to
go.

"Hey, hold up, Max!"

The guard paused in his tracks. "Yes, what is it this time,
Caleb?" he asked wearily.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but ... do you think you could
get me in to see him?"

Max stared at me as though I'd uttered something absolutely
preposterous. He leaned closer to the bars and hissed, "Are
you trying to make me lose my job or something? You know
it's against the rules for one inmate to visit another in
the infirmary. He'll be out in a week or so, you can tell
him then."

I sighed with frustration. "I know, Max, it's just that ...
what I have to tell him can't wait that long! As it is, I've
wasted enough time. Come on, Max, when have I ever asked you
for anything?"

I knew that last sentence had been a bad addition. Max
pretended to think: "Hmm, let's see. Back in February you
wanted me to -"

I interrupted before he had the chance to remind me how I'd
asked him to help me out by guaranteeing that a certain new
inmate got transferred into my cell. "Okay, okay. There was
that one time. But other than that, I've never asked for any
favors, have I?" Max had to nod his agreement.

I knew I had to move in quickly to win this argument. "It'd
mean a lot to me, and to Julian. Just this once, Max - in
the name of our friendship." I felt a little bad for using
such a dirty move, bringing up the camaraderie we'd forged
over the years. When I'd first entered the penitentiary
eight years ago, Max - a junior guard back then - had been
similarly new to the establishment. I fixed my best pleading
look on him, which was no easy feat considering how rarely I
felt the need to grovel. Yet strangely enough this was the
second time in less than a week.

Max looked at me for a few seconds, and then sighed loudly
as he reached for his bunch of keys. "How do I let you talk
me into these things ..." he grumbled under his breath.

I was so delighted I could've kissed him. (Obviously I
didn't, but based on the vibes I'd gotten off Max in the
past, I don't think he would've minded particularly if I
had.)

"You won't regret this," I promised.

"I sure as hell hope not!" he muttered, swinging my cell
door open.

                            * * *

For someone who worked in a profession that involved the
enforcement of rules, Max certainly seemed to know a lot
about ways to get around them. It took a while, and a good
deal of haggling with the nurse on duty at the infirmary,
but eventually he managed to get me into the ward that was
Julian's temporary home.

"She said he had the last ward to himself," mumbled Max,
stopping short at the end of the corridor, "so this must be
it". He sneaked a peek through the glass panel set into the
door. I was about to attempt a peek myself when he turned
back around.

"Yup, it's your boy alright. Now, you've got ten minutes -
no more."

"That's more than I could've hoped for," I said gratefully.
"Thanks a lot, Max."

He grunted, looking a little embarrassed, and gestured for
me to enter the room. I obeyed and found myself in a
surprisingly bright room. There were three beds against the
walls on either side, with a walkway in the middle that led
up to a bank of windows on the wall directly opposite me.
The windows were barred, of course, but they let in plenty
of natural light - something one is otherwise hard-pressed
to find in a prison.

Five of the beds were unoccupied, but in one of the end ones
there was a tousled blond head sticking out from underneath
the covers. As I approached I saw that Julian was asleep; he
looked so angelic and peaceful it seemed like a shame to
wake him. Then I remembered the time crunch I was in and
forced myself to shake him awake by the shoulder.

His eyelids fluttered open and he squinted against the
bright sunlight streaming in from the nearby windows.
"Caleb? How'd you get in here?"

"I know some people," I said, grinning. I looked around for
a chair but there was none, so I sat on the edge of the bed
instead. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better," he smiled, stretching and rubbing the sleep
from his eyes. "Although the doctor says I'll be out of
commission for a couple of weeks. So how've you been?" He
gave a cheeky grin. "I hope you haven't been spending your
days all by your lonesome."

I couldn't believe it. I had insulted him, lost my temper
when he rightfully protested, and then proceeded to
aggravate the symptoms of his appendicitis by hitting him.
Yet here he was acting all lighthearted and flirty.

I just went right ahead and said it. "Julian. I'm sorry. I
should never have called you -"

He interrupted "S'okay."

"No, it's not okay. You were just trying to help, and I - I
lashed out at you. Please accept my apology."

Julian sighed. "Well, if you insist ... apology accepted. To
tell the truth, I don't know why I reacted that way. I mean,
I've been called a lot worse before. And now that I've had
time to think about it ... I don't really blame you. It
wasn't my place to say those things -"

"But you were right," I said quietly.

Julian blinked, evidently unsure that he'd heard me
correctly.

"You were right," I repeated. "You hit a little too close to
home. That's why I reacted the way I did. And I had no right
-"

"Caleb," Julian interjected gently, realization registering
in his eyes, "you don't have to -"

I held up my hand to silence him. "Just ... let me finish."
I didn't think I could go through with it twice. I turned
and looked out the window, thankful that the ward was empty
except for the two of us, for what I had to say was
extremely personal.

"The first time I ever did anything with another man was
with Harrison Ridgeway. It was wrong from the word go, and I
knew it. I had a nephew who was closer in age to him, and
who had spent most of his teenage years in love with him. At
first I told myself it was just a way of getting sexual
relief, I was helping Harry explore his gay side while
remaining completely heterosexual myself." I gave a crooked
grin. "I was lying to myself. Something in me had changed.
And I tried to hide it. I lied to Harry that there was
nothing between us, and the weird part was - he accepted it.
So easily! And there I was struggling to accept it myself."

"But then he got released, and I went back to being alone in
my cell. It was so simple to tell myself that I'd just had
my long-overdue adolescent hormonal phase, and the confusion
had passed. And who should turn up to unsettle the
precarious balance I had built up but you. You made me face
truths that I would rather not have ..."

He was looking intently at me, head cocked slightly to one
side, an indescribably tender expression on his features.

"... And I took it out on you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Julian shook his head. "Caleb, I had appendicitis. You can't
blame yourself for that. If anything, it was my own stubborn
mule-headedness in not seeking medical attention as soon as
I knew something wasn't right -"

"Why didn't you?" I interrupted.

He gave a crooked smile. "Would you believe it's because I'm
terrified of hospitals?"

I stared at him. Fear of medical institutions is something I
can understand in octogenarians, but a twenty-something-year-
old guy ...

"I grew up in small-town Texas," he said by way of
explanation. (I thought I'd detected a slight Texas accent.)
"We never went to the hospital unless it was absolutely
necessary. And after I came to L.A. ... well, let's just say
hospital visits didn't bode very well for guys in my, uh,
line of work." He looked down at his interlinked fingers as
he said the last words, and for the first time I saw how
deeply ashamed he was of what he'd had to do for a living.
Of what he'd doubtless have to go back to doing when he was
released from prison. It didn't matter that it wasn't the
job of his choice, or whether he even liked it - I was
starting to feel he didn't, that it was all part of the
brave facade that he put up - but it was the only way he
knew of to earn a living. And in that instant I made my
decision.

"You're not going back there," I said. "When you get out of
here ... you're not going back to the streets. You're coming
to live with me."

There was a pause. Then he laughed, nervously. "You're
kidding, right?" The laughter died as he saw the serious
expression on my face. "Right?" he asked again, weakly.

I shook my head firmly. "Look, we're getting released within
weeks of each other. I'll be out first, and I'll wait for
you. I know there won't be a lot of money, and the first
couple of months or so might be rough, but I do have some
savings, and then there's my nephew, I know he'll help out
..." I was babbling in my keenness to reassure him, but it
seemed to have the opposite effect on him; he looked
thoroughly miserable.

Finally he choked out a "Don't!"

I stopped mid-sentence, feeling confused and a little
alarmed. "What's wrong?"

He had his eyes clenched shut. "Please don't, Caleb. Don't
do this to me. Don't make promises you don't intend to
keep."

"I do intend to keep them!" I protested.

"Not to me you don't. Who am I to you, Caleb? Just some guy
you share your cell with and feel sorry for. That's not a
reason to put him up in your home."

"It isn't," I agreed. "But it is when you care about him.
And I do. I care about you. I'm not sure if I - I love you,
but I definitely care about you." The words took me by
surprise, but as I said them I knew that they were true.

And from the look on Julian's face, he knew it too. And it
surprised him, because he hadn't thought anyone was capable
of caring about him. I could see it in his eyes, and it
practically wrenched my heart out of my chest. His tears
spilled over, and I reacted instinctively, wrapping my arms
around him. He melted into my embrace, crying silently. I
wanted to say something, whisper comforting words in his
ear, but they weren't needed.

"You're a good man, Caleb," he whispered. I opened my mouth
to protest, but he silenced me with a finger to my lips. He
gave a crooked smile. "I'm telling you - and I've met a lot
of men." There was no pride in his voice at this
`accomplishment'. "There were men who just wanted a quick
fix. There were men who had a wife and kids waiting at home.
And there were men like Eric ..."

"One day you'll tell me about him," I said.

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, surprise that
someone should care, before he realized he should no longer
be stunned by that. "Maybe some day," he nodded, "but not
now."

"No," I agreed, "we don't have the time."

Almost on cue, I heard someone clearing their throat at the
other end of the ward. Both Julian and I looked in that
direction to see Max; he held up his watch-encircled wrist
and tapped the quartz face.

"I have to go," I told Julian. I knew it had been well over
ten minutes, and I wondered how long Max had been waiting
there; I hadn't heard him come into the ward. How much had
he overheard? Did it even matter?

I decided that it didn't. A week ago I would have balked at
a public display of affection, but those painful moments
when Julian had been writhing in agony on his bunk had
taught me a valuable lesson. I got up and kissed Julian on
the forehead. "Get well quickly, Jules." A smile touched his
face at the nickname.

"I will," he promised. "You take care of yourself."

I gave his hand a tight squeeze before letting go and
walking towards Max.

                            * * *

"You know, I can probably get the kid his own cell by using
this illness as a reason."

I stared at Max. We were almost at my cell door. He went on
innocently, "I mean, you do still want your cell to
yourself, right?"

"You know very well I don't!" I growled.

Max smirked. "I thought not. Well, here you are" - he swung
the door open and stood aside for me to pass through - "You
can thank me later."

I gave him a quizzical glance.

Max clicked his tongue impatiently. "Come on, who put the
pretty boy in your cell to begin with, huh?"

I sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Thanks, Max.
You're a real pal."

He chuckled as he locked the door. "And don't you forget
it!"

I watched him stride off down the corridor and couldn't help
smiling. How could I forget, when I would soon have Julian's
bubbly, golden-haired presence as a constant reminder of the
circumstances of our first, fateful meeting?


                     To be continued ...


Please send your feedback to justinr_88@yahoo.com. Once
again my apologies for the delay in posting this chapter.
The next chapter should follow shortly.