Date: Mon, 08 Nov 1999 23:11:02 GMT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Lance-In-Shining-Armour-24-25

We're in the home stretch -- not many installments left.  This too shall
end.  This is a short one again -- those 30 page installments are tough,
especially when you're aiming to wind everything up.  Everything is
aimed at completing the story, so I gotta spend that much more time
planning (in the beginning, nothing was planned, just wrote with the
final ending in mind -- now I'm in the final ending phase, and I have to
deal with all of that lack of planning stuff. :)

The story was also delayed cause Dan requested a delay -- he was in
midterms and needed the study time.  No distractions. :) So blame Dan!
(Even though y'all got no idea who he is -- he has big hair.)

So here we go -- it's a bit darker than previous ones.  Lance is present!
I've been warned by DLS of Brian and Me that some readers will find
things dull if the celebrity and his boy aren't in the same city, but this is
an essential part of the story, so the separation was required!

I'll try to get them back in the same city with the next installment. :)

So email me with questions, comments, recipes, yada yada yada. :)

thepoetboy@hotmail.com

***

Part 24

I got out to the limo, convincing myself I was fine all the way. I gave the
driver quick directions to David II's office, and then I broke down.  I let
myself go since I was alone in the spacious limo -- having closed the
window to the driver as soon as the car started moving.

After about twenty minutes, I'd cried myself out and cleaned myself up
as much as I could.  I called ahead to the number of David II's note and
reached the secretary.

"Hi, can you tell David that David Sheer is on his way?  I should be there
in about fifteen minutes."  I always overestimated because I always liked
to be on time.

"Yes, Mister Sheer -- we'll be ready for you."

I flipped off the cell and stared out the window, watching the grey
buildings slide by.  You never saw yellow sky scrapers, not like houses.
Sky scrapers have to look dull and business like.  Sombre.  I was never
able to see how someone could live down town without all of the wide
open spaces, filled with colour, that I was used to.

David's office was on the 9th floor, and his elevators were quick and
efficient.  Not like the rez elevators that squeal and squeak, making the
rider kick him or herself for never completing their will.

David met me at the elevator with a handshake and a worried look.
"You look like shit."

I smiled.  "Just what I wanted to hear from my lawyer.  It's been a long
day."

"We can have you out of here in about twenty minutes if we move fast."

"Sounds good to me."

He took me to a small conference room where some food was set out.  I
grabbed some orange juice and grapes and settled in to be bored to sleep.
Turned out it wasn't that bad -- just some bank papers to be signed.

"We'd like to represent you, David," David II said to me seriously.

"What sort of stuff do you handle?"

"We'll handle most everything.  Right down to paying the bills and
arranging the cleaning service.  We even take charge over financial
investments -- choosing your portfolio managers and investments.  You
want anything, you can call us and we'll arrange it."

"How much will it cost me?"

He wrote down a figure and I nodded.  Seemed a bit steep.

"Looks a bit high.  The trust fund isn't that big."

"Gotten a look at what you stand to inherit?"

I shook my head and he wrote down another number.  He slid it across
the table and watched with a grin as my eyes widened.

"You're hired."

"And remember, you promised to keep it all.  Nothing to charity."

"She can't seriously expect me to stick to that with this amount to play
around with."

"You signed your agreement at the hotel.  You can't make a charitable
donation exceeding ten thousand per year for at least twenty years."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"You signed it.  If you break that, the money becomes the property of
this law firm."  He smiled.  "And to tell you the truth, we wouldn't know
what to do with it either."

I signed a few more papers.

"Now that it's official, is there anything we can get for you?  Anything
you need for the house?"

"Nope.  I'd like to do the shopping for myself, thanks."

"Alright."

"When is Derrick O'Hara's funeral?"

He blinked twice before he answered.  "Thursday, why?  Do you want us
to arrange flowers?"

"I intend to go."

"Is that wise?"

"Probably not -- but I'm going anyway."  I shook his hand and got up to
leave.  "Oh, and by the way, do you find JC attractive?"

He froze like a deer in the headlights of two transports, both aiming to
converge on his antlers.

I laughed and left the room.  "Don't worry -- I find him adorable too."

***

The next stop was Joy's hospital room.  She looked smaller than she'd
looked the last time I was there and she was asleep.  Her breathing was
shallow, so if you weren't looking closely, you'd have been certain she
was dead.  A copy of "The Stone Angel" by Margaret Laurence was
open on her lap.

I cleared some books off the chair and sat down.  I found my poetry book
somewhere in the pile and started to read through it.  It was an older
version, some of the poems weren't edited to their newest versions.

"Read them to me, David."

I looked up and she was smiling at me with her hands clasped on her lap.
I smiled and flipped back to the beginning of the booklet, reading
through each poem.  They start out energetic and loud, the first poem
requiring some yelling (which I toned down for the environment) and
some of the later poems were said in near whispers.

I couldn't relate to them anymore.  They were dark and pessimistic --
reality stripped of all emotion.  That wasn't me anymore.  I wasn't in the
depressed phase I'd been in when I compiled the book.

Now I was in love -- there was an extra sun in the sky, casting optimism
everywhere.  Even if he was out of the country by now, he still existed.
The proof hung around my neck.

"How do you like the house?" she asked as I closed the book and slipped
it back into the pile.

"You've made a beautiful place.  I love it."

"Everything in it is yours now."

"Thank-you."

She grinned with her eyes.  "Go ahead -- ask."

I giggled.  "Okay, records in the bathroom?"

She cackled from her hospital thrown.  "They were Alice's.  She loved
to take long baths with her records -- every evening she'd disappear for
an hour and a half, and she'd have a record playing on the counter."

"Alice is the woman in the pictures on the stairs?"

"You've seen the attic?"  I nodded.  "She painted those.  The good ones.
The other ones were my attempts, after she died.  I couldn't capture her,
no matter how many canvasses I used.  I just couldn't catch her."

Her voice trailed off and her eyes stared into a past I didn't know.  I
waited patiently until she shook her head slightly and refocused her eyes
on me.

"Your boy is gone?"

"He's on a plane now."

"You two have more time together.  Don't worry."  I forced back the
tears.  "True love doesn't care about distance, David.  Just like Alice --
she's not with me, but she's still close.  And getting closer every day.
And you will always be close to your boy -- just like Alice."

I didn't respond.

"Read to me, David."  She motioned to the book on her lap.  "My fingers
take too long to turn the pages, and my eyes take too long to read the
words."

I read to her until she fell asleep, and for another hour after than.  Then I
kissed her forehead and walked away.

***

That night I tried to sleep in the basement on the pile of pillows.  The
house was quiet and creaked in the wind.  I turned the thermostat down.
I was raised in a cold house, and I slept best when I was cold.

But I'd gotten used to a warm body beside me.  A warm body that kept
the nightmares away, and made the room cozy.  I stared into the fire,
exhausted but too restless to sleep.  Eventually I went up to the little
library and started up my computer, in search of email.

I groaned as Netscape started downloading my new messages -- my two
hundred new messages.  One of the first was from Jennifer -- a mass
mailing to everyone that I put in my own mass mailings, telling people
that I was in hospital, that I was in rough shape.

James' alter-ego was the forth email.

***

Subject: Re: Prayers for David
Date: Sun, 26 Sept 1999 19:22:46 -0400 (EDT)
From: Jason Mitchell <removed for James' privacy>
To: David Sheer <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>

I . . . David, are you alright?  I'll try calling, I've got your phone number
in my saved file.  You've got to be alright.

I'm praying for you -- reply to this as soon as you read this, understand?
Please.

Love,
James

***

He slipped up, signing his real name to the email.   "Prayers for David"
was just the sort of cheesy subject Jennifer would write.

It sounded too much like "Prayers for the Dead" for my taste -- which
made me shiver.  It made me feel I was living on borrowed time.

I clicked the reply button.

***

Jason (tee hee),

>I . . . David, are you alright?  I'll try calling, I've got your phone
>number in my saved file.  You've got to be alright.

I'm fine, man -- got myself a lawyer!  Joy's doing alright -- she looks . . .
older than when we met her.  Haven't heard from Doug -- is he even
around any more or am I free from the whole media thing?

I can't sleep though.  This house is so . ..  empty.

How was your flight?  Slept through it, I hope. :)  (Don't believe
anything Josh tells you about that -- the boy lies through his teeth.)

>I'm praying for you -- reply to this as soon as you read this, understand?
>Please.

It's about a week and a half late, but here's your reply.  A lot's changed
-- first off, Jason, I met this guy.  He's blond, really cute, and he's a sexy
little devil.  I thought I'd die when I first saw him, cause he's kinda
famous.  Ever heard of the BSBs?  Well, he's a wannabe. :)

Anyway -- I have 200 or so emails to get through, so I'll go.  Say hi to
Josh, Chris, Joey and Justin for me, cause I don't think I'll get the
chance to email them tonight.  With any luck I'll fall asleep at the
keyboard soon.

Love ya,
David

P.S.  Not sure when I'll get to call -- depends on when I finally get to
sleep.

P.P.S.  I reeeeeeeally do love you.

***

Most of the emails just got quick read throughs an a tap of the delete
icon.  I sent a mass mail to everyone in my address book, giving them
my new phone number (for the house, not the cell) and telling them I
was alright and thanking them for their support.

I didn't know what to do with the emails from the people I didn't know.
Replying to them all would take forever.  I ended up dropping them into
a new folder and deciding to deal with it later.

The last email in the inbox was from an Alex Summers.

***

Subject: Greetings!
Date: Tues, 5 Oct 1999 19:22:46 -0400 (EDT)
From: Alex Summers <removed for Josh's privacy>
To: David Sheer <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>

The plan worked, Davey.  He slept the whole way and practically
collapsed when we got to the hotel.  He's so cute when he's sleeping.

Aaaaaaaanyway, he made me promise to email you to let you know we
got in alright.  He expects an email by the time he wakes up.

And he keeps saying your name in his sleep.  Sigh.  You lucky bastard. :)

(Don't tell him I said that!)

Love,
Josh

***

I smiled.  Everyone but James could see how great a couple he and Josh
would be.  I was hoping for something good for Josh -- hell, for all of the
guys. They were too sweet to be single forever.

I closed my email program and turned off the computer.  I walked
around the house in the dark, finally settling in the Nintendo room.  I
searched through my CD pile, squinting until I found one that looked
like the NSYNC album, and loaded it into the stereo.

I finally fell asleep when the guys got to track three.

***

One of my quirks was that no matter whenever I went to sleep, I was
awake by 8:30.  When that time rolled around, the guys were singing
Sailing -- not a bad way to wake up.

***

I wanted to learn to play that piano well, to paint the kitchen white with
bright yellow highlights, to have long pool matches in the basement, to
have a house warming party everyone came to, to put a giant Christmas
tree in the back room.  I wanted to develop habits, to know the house
well enough to walk around with my eyes closed and to hit nothing.  I
wanted to name every fish in the pond, the hear every record that came
from the bathroom, to learn to paint like Alice had.

I wanted pictures of my life to climb the stairs, weaving around Joy's.

But . . . .

***

First order of business was finding a pool table -- I needed all the
practice I could get before I had to face the guys.  We'd had a pool table
when I was a kid, but the surface was warped -- so I was great at playing
pool, but only on that particular warped table.

I found a huge oak one -- and I was glad it was headed for the basement.
I'd be worried about the floors holding it. But if they could hold the
piano . . .

It was to arrive on Friday, along with the new television and the men
who would install a house wide stereo system.

***

Funeral clothes came next -- I met up with Wynne and she helped me
shop.  I didn't tell her whose funeral it was for, she never asked.  She
was just happy to see me alive.

***

The plants were to be delivered the next day, in the morning.  The
funeral was at 2, so I tipped the florist to make sure that the new house
plants would be at the house by noon, no matter what she had to do to
accomplish it.

***

I spent the rest of the day boxing up Joy's stuff.  I emptied the dresser of
the dried flowers (kicking myself for not asking about them) and a lot of
other Joy-isms that didn't fit with my own sense of style.

Alice watched me quietly as I piled the boxes in the attic.

***

My cell phone rang around five, and I had to run down two flights of
stairs to answer it.

"Hi, beautiful," James growled.

"You wouldn't say that if you saw me.  Half asleep and covered in
sweat."

"What're you doing?"

"Davidifying the house."

He snickered.

"I replied to your email, Davey."

"Cool, I'll check it after dinner.  How're the guys?"

"Same.  Busta is with us again, so Chris is spending all of his time with
him."

I decided to look for a dog of my own as soon as I got back from Calgary
-- I wanted a golden retriever, even though I was allergic to long haired
dogs.  The yard called out for a dog.

"And how's my baby, James?"

He giggled.  "Lonely.  JC slept on the couch in my room last night, just
to keep me company."

"I can't see how you two never got together."

"Don't start this again."

"Hey, I'm not gonna dump you just so you'll date him -- I'm just
curious.  You too just seem so . . . compatible."

"I think he's got a crush on you too, David."

"Then why am I wasting my time on the bass when I could have one of
the main singers?"

He laughed.  "I will so have to beat you up for that."

"Ah, so you like it rough?"

"Shut up!"

The call went on for two hours until he finally sighed.

"I've gotta go.  We've got some stuff to do before tonight's concert.  I've
arranged some kick ass seats for you in Calgary -- how long will you be
staying anyway?"

"Is a week too long?"

"Eternity wouldn't be too long.  A week.  Okay, that means you'll get to
see LA too."

"Cool.  Well, I won't keep you then."

"I miss you, David."

"I miss you too."

"Call me right after the funeral, okay?"

"Deal."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

He sighed again and quietly said "Bye" before he hung up.

***

Part 25

I fell asleep in the back bedroom, between sneezing fits.  For a house full
of cleaning people, there was a lot of hidden dust.  And when you were
all alone, with your sneezes echoing through the house, it felt like a
tomb.  Alice, Joy and I were buried here, in the quiet rooms.  Joy and
Alice held hands on the stairs, frozen in time.  I was reflected in . . .  the
empty spaces.  The spaces I'd made were where I was.  I was in the
places between trinkets, the spot where a chair had been, the empty
cabinets in the bathroom and the pile of pillows in the basement.

And I was in the pad in the kitchen, with James' name written over and
over and over and . . .

I woke up to the ringing of the phone -- I stumbled half asleep down the
hall to the hall phone and picked it up.

"Davey, that you?"

"Yeah, Luke, it's me."  I yawned loudly.

"Did I wake you up, man?"

"Naw.  It's morning, right?"

"8 am.  What're you up to today?"

"Some deliveries coming this morning.  Then going out this afternoon."

"Can I tag along?"

"It really wouldn't interest you, Luke."

"Shut up, David.  I haven't seen you since you were shot, boy, I'm going
to see you today no matter what."

I smiled.  Luke was persistent, if nothing else.

"Alright already.  Just dress formal -- dark colours."

"Why?  Where're we going?"

"It's a surprise."

I smiled an gave him directions to the house.  Today, two of the most
important people in my life would meet.  Luke, who'd saved me when
the depression got too hard to handle, and Derrick, who'd shot me.

Maybe Luke could save me again.

***

Luke arrived just after the florists.  I was directing the placement of
plants -- several were far too heavy for me to lift.  I was standing on the
front porch with a checklist -- making sure everything arrived.

"Nice place, Davey."  He was shorter than I was, about five-nine and
about 15 pounds lighter.  He was skinny, whereas I had a stronger frame.
But he was the one I stole the idea for a goatee from -- those his blond
goatee matched his blond hair.  Whereas my blond/brown combination
looked a bit odd.

"Thanks, Lukie.  Wazzup, girlfriend?"  I hugged him tightly, rocking
him back and forth.  "Sorry I didn't call, I've been busy."

"Hey, if I had NSYNC hanging around I'd probably never remember you
existed, dude."

"Love you too, dude."  I laughed and released him.

"So where're we going on our big day on the town?"

I snickered.  "A funeral."

He blinked.  Once.  Twice.  "Pardon?"

"We're going to Derrick O'Hara's funeral.  Lance made me promise to
bring someone, and you were elected."

"Lance is the one you're dating?"

I blinked.  Once.  Twice.  "I'm single, Luke."

"Don't you dare almost lie, date a celebrity and then lie to me, David
Sheer.  Fess up.  You owe me."

So I did.  "Yeah, it's James."

"Ah, the cute one."

"I thought you liked Joey."

"People change -- interests wander."  He laughed.  "When do we leave?"

"Another hour.  I just need to get these plant people out of here and
make sure everything's set up.  Want the grand tour?"

"Of course."

***

We had to park more than three blocks from the funeral home.  It was a
cold walk -- dress pants aren't the warmest things.  I was still updating
Luke on what had gone on between me and James -- he was a bit jealous
at first that I'd met NSYNC and hadn't invited him, but he got into the
story.

There was a crowd outside of the funeral home, and they didn't look
happy.  I saw some news cameras and stopped in my tracks.

"What's the matter?" Luke asked.  He put his hand on my shoulder.

"I don't want to explain to the world why I'm going to the funeral of the
guy who shot me."

"Don't worry, I doubt they'll even let you in."

He pointed to the top of the stairs, where a few people dressed in black
were turning away people at the doors.  A woman in the middle of
everything looked a lot like the little girl . . . . looked a lot like Derrick's
daughter.  I decided she must be Derrick's widow.

I swore.

"Great, not only do I have to face media, I gotta face the woman whose
husband I shot."

"Twice," Luke added, helpfully.

I turned to glare at him.  "Yeah, you're a lot of help."

Luke laughed and grabbed my hand, dragging me into the crowd before I
could object.  He wasn't as reserved as I was, so he pushed and shoved
and made a rapid path through the crowd.

Recognition trailed behind us like a net, catching people as we passed.
Microphones were thrust in front of me, but Luke never let go and I was
pulled past them and up the steps.

He couldn't push past Mrs. O'Hara.

"How did you know Derrick?"

"Uh," Luke said, eloquently.  "Friend of a friend."

"And who is the friend?"  Her voice was terse and worn.

Luke made sure he stayed between me and her, so she couldn't see me.
His plan was ruined by a Global news camera that came up behind me.

"David Sheer?  Have you come to join the demonstration?"

I turned to face the camera and a bright light flared to life.  "No,
actually.  I just came to say goodbye.  Other than that, I've got no
comment."

I turned away from the camera, editing it out of my life.  Luke was
arguing with the widow, questions were yelled up behind me, swarming
around me.  A dandelion in the wind.

My name was called.  Yelled loudly.  From the left.

I turned and a big man was running toward me.  I pulled my hand from
Luke's and stepped back.  The man was in a dark suit with a black tie.
His face was red and his breath puffed out in front of him.  I stepped
back again, and nearly tripped on the steps.  I balled my hands up and he
yelled again.

Then he was on me.  .. .

 . . .. and lifting me in his huge arms, spinning me around on the steps.

"Thank-you, David Sheer, thank you."

He was laughing and crying into my shoulder, and I felt like a sprite in
the arms of a giant, flying in circles.  I started to breath again and the
adrenaline flowed through my veins, making me shake.

He finally put me down onto my shaky feet and I saw Luke and Mrs.
O'Hara staring at us over his shoulder.

"Linda?  Do you realize who this is?  He's the one who saved our Laura."

He smiled at me, with big white teeth.  He stuck out his hand.

"Martin Shepard.  Laura's uncle.  This is Linda," he motioned to Mrs.
O'Hara, "Laura's mother."

I put my hand out and he shook it strongly.  I was distantly aware of the
flash photography.

Luke pointed at me.  "A friend of him."

Linda was crying and held her arms open for me.  She hugged with the
strength of a lioness.

***

Luke and I sat at the back.  Martin had tried to drag us to the front, to
introduce me to the family, but I thought it would be in bad taste.
"Yeah, I'm the guy who shot the deceased. You're his mother?  Pleasure
to meet you!  You really messed up somewhere along the line, didn't ya?
Ha ha ha."

I flipped through the Bible but didn't read the pages.  I just wanted to feel
the paper.

Word of my presence spread, and people kept looking over their
shoulders.  There were only about thirty people in the room -- but it was
a small cool chapel to begin with.  The faces ranged from supporting
smiles to death stares.

The coffin up front, with no flowers on it.  In fact, there were no flowers
anywhere in the room.  I was hoping they'd open the coffin.

I wanted one look at that face, one view of the man who lived only in
distorted memories.  When family died, I never wanted to see the bodies
-- I was haunted by the memory of my Grandmother's body.  They'd
given her the wrong skin colour, and they'd sewn her lips shut -- I had
never once seen her lips close before.

But seeing him wasn't what I'd come for.

***

Hi, Derrick.  It's David.  You never did hear my name, did you?

You shot me.  Ring some bells?

I think I needed to know you were dead.  I needed to be sure.  I needed to
be able to sleep alone without the nightmares -- and they disappeared
when I heard you'd died.  I don't want them to ever come back.

I'm glad you're dead, but I don't bear any grudges for you shooting me.
Too much good came from it -- I might have never met James without
you.

You were our Cupid.  (Look into less painful arrows.)

I don't even care that you were trying to kill your daughter -- the girl who
trusted you. . .  she's not here today, and I can't blame her.  But that was
your wrong against her, not against me.  I can't hold a grudge about
something you did to someone else.

My own father hit me -- and I don't blame him.  Past is past, and he's
made huge steps to improve himself.

But you never got the chance to improve -- that was stolen from you, and
for that, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I shot you, instead of stopping you some
other way.  I'm sorry you never regained consciousness from those shots
to make your amends.  I'm sorry you were murdered.

These days pass like a dream.  I feel I should be crying that James is
gone, but something in me says he never should have been here.  That he
should have sat in the back row of my funeral last week.

He should have sat there, and Josh should have comforted him.
Eventually they'd have kissed and lived happily ever after.  I'm standing
in Josh's place.

He's missing out because for some reason, I didn't die.

So I'm glad you're dead, but I wish you weren't.  That's my confused
conclusion on the matter.

Bye.

***

I grabbed Luke's hand and we quietly slipped out the back.

"I thought you wanted to learn about him," Luke whispered when the
door had shut behind us.  The press and the crowd was still there,
watching us stand by the doors.

"His wife hugged me.  Hugged me for shooting her husband," I
whispered back.  "It was just going to get worse."

She'd started off the service by talking about him.  There were no
priests, no holy men.  She left the podium for the next person to take her
place, to speak about him, but no-one did.

Everyone stared forward silently.

We started down the stairs and I pulled out my cell phone and hit the
speed dial.  He answered almost immediately.

"How'd it go?" he asked, with his deep voice, and smooth accent.

Luke shook his head.  He rolled his eyes as he watched my face burst
into an all out smile, just at the sound of the voice in my ear.

"The widow hugged me, the brother in law practically tried to adopt
me."

"That good, huh?"  He laughed and I heard him give a short report to
someone in the back ground.

The cameras were too closed, the crowd was surrounding me.  Luke had
my hand and was tugging me through.

"Who's with you, Jason?"  I wasn't about to reveal that the person I
called for support was James Lance Bass.  One mention of NSYNC and I
could be stuck in another media blitz.

"Josh.  We were going over some songs he's been working on."

"Tell him I said hi."

In the background I heard Josh yell something out.  James giggled.

"You sound like you're in a good mood, Jace."

"I'm on the phone with my man -- not a bad thing to be doing."

"So no suicide attempts just because we're not together?"

"Oh, we're together -- a few hundred or a few thousand miles won't stop
that."

"We're wandering into cheese territory."  Luke pulled me out of the
crowd -- questions trailed after, but we ignored them.  "But I do love
you, Jace."

"I love you too, Ted."

"Ted?  I want to at least be a Carter.  Or a Scott -- that's a good name."

"Justin claimed Scott, remember?"

"Oh, yeah.  Bastard.  Taking all the good names."

"So you're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah.  Luke's gonna give me a lift home."

"Who's Luke?"

"I never mentioned Luke?  The boy's like my second best friend!"

"And who's the first?"

"Jennifer.  But Josh is working his way into the top three."

James said something again and I heard Josh whoop in celebration.

"Josh says he'll make sure he takes over the top spot by Christmas."

"I'll tell Luke and Jenn they've got some competition.  Maybe I can get
some back rubs out of it."

"You want a back rub?  You, me, Calgary, best back rub you'll ever
have."

"How long is five days?"

"Eternity."

I sighed.  "Thought so."

"Why don't you bring Luke with you?"

"He's got school.  We can't all be glamourously rich university drop-outs."
I turned to Luke.  "Wanna go to Calgary next week?"

He grinned and unlocked the car doors.  Then he put on his best David
voice.  "I've got school.  We can't all be glamourously rich . . ."

He lost balance when I pushed him to the sidewalk.  He laughed and sat,
waiting for me to finish the call.

"Luke politely declines.  He's not Josh's type anyway."

James lowered his voice.  "Josh has a type?"

"Yeah, sweety.  You."  I giggled.

James sounded far away from the phone.  "No, we're not talking about
you."  He came back to the receiver.  "I don't think he believed me."

"I so want to kiss you."  I watched Luke roll his eyes again.

"Don't mention it," James responded quietly.  "If we don't say it, it'll be
easier to wait.  Just don't say it.  I don't ever want to hear you say you
miss me."

I had to think about it for a minute.  "I'll never say it if you never say it.
No matter what, no matter how long we have to be apart."

"Deal."

I was leaning against the car, staring at the street.  It was empty of cars,
in the middle of the day, in the middle of the city.  Luke wrapped his arm
around my leg and squeezed it in support.

The silence stretched on.

Josh's voice came on the line, soft and full of sympathy.  "Lance can't
really talk right now.  He won't say it, but I can -- he misses ya, David."
I could hear James crying, I could picture Josh holding him.  I wasn't
able to make any words of my own -- and I could feel the tears on my
cheeks, and my nose starting to run.

I swallowed twice and cleared my throat.  "Tell him I'll call him tonight,
Josh."

"Will do, Davey.  See ya."

"Bye."

I hit the power button on the phone, and Luke was there to hug me.

"You'll see him again, David."  He whispered it, holding me tight.

I tried to believe it.

***

She stood in front of the coffin.  A small woman.

"I can't defend Derrick.  I know that he was a good man -- he started out
good.  But somehow he got lost.  More than lost.  He tried to kill his
daughter -- the one person in life that needed him the most.

"There's no way to defend that."

Her voice stayed strong, but she was crying.

"I'd have killed him myself -- I wouldn't have stopped shooting until the
gun was empty.  But I can't accept his murder -- it was premeditated.
Someone made plans to get into that hospital, into that room.  They
knew when the nurses were busy, and when the police would be gone.

"It wasn't the reaction of a hero who saved my daughter -- it was the
action of a coward.  A coward murdering a coward.

"I'm glad the bastard's gone.  He won't be missed.  I may be his wife,
but I was never his lover.

"Who-ever can manage a loving word for him is welcome to stand here
and share."

And no-one stood up.

***

End of part 25

Next part will hopefully be out next Monday -- but I have an essay or
two due next week, so no promises. :)

thepoetboy@hotmail.com