Date: Thu, 20 Jan 2000 01:16:32 GMT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Lance-In-Shining-Armour-29-31.txt

Let's start off with the obvious.  This is FICTION!  To my knowledge,
none of the members of NSYNC are gay.  (Though I have some
suspicions and a heck of a lot of wishful thinking. :)

This is not really based on the real NSYNC.  I don't believe that Lance
and JC are bisexual -- maybe they are, maybe they aren't -- I don't know.
(And frankly, it doesn't matter to me.  I wouldn't enjoy their music more
or less either way.)

Next, sexual content may appear in future installments (if there are
future installments :).  So if you don't wanna read man/man sex,
then skip the stories that have the sex warning at the top.  Otherwise, it's
just a story with some romantic elements.

If it's illegal for you to read this, then don't read this.

If you happen to be a member of the NSYNC group, please, email me. :)

If you aren't in NSYNC, I'd still love to hear what you thought of the
story. Email me at thepoetboy@hotmail.com  Thanks to those who've
already written to me!  (There were a lot of you over the holiday season.
:)

Lastly, this installment is the riskiest one thus far.  Be forewarned, it
wanders into dark territory at times. :)

Oh, and my spell checker is acting up -- so forgiveness, please. :)

Part 29

Around 3 am, I tip-toed into the bathroom.  James was snoring lightly,
but even in his sleep he had a goofy grin on his face.

I tossed my t-shirt onto the counter and swore.  A bit of blood had
soaked through the bandage -- just a little dab, but it was more than
enough.

I dropped the old bandage into the toilet and flushed.  James wasn't
going to find that one.

Wetting some kleenex, I dabbed at the wound, hoping to get away as
much of the dried blood as possible.  Cute Doctor Carter wasn't going to
be impressed.

"Still have to bandage that thing?"  James said, leaning against the door
frame.

"Yeah, but it's getting better.  Go back to bed, James.  I'll be there in a
minute."

He took a step forward.  "I'll cut the tape."

My voice hardened.  "No, thank-you.  I can do it."

He stopped and stared at me in the mirror.  I kept my Kleenex against the
wound, keeping it hidden, and met his gaze.  His mouth hung slightly
open and he stopped mid-step.

I forced myself to speak more softly.  "I'm fine, James.  But I can do this
on my own."

"I just wanted to help."  His voice was small -- as far from his Lance
voice as it could be.

"I'm almost done anyway.  I'll be out in a minute."

He held my look for a moment, then nodded and left the bathroom.

I sighed and pulled the Kleenex away.  There was some fresh blood on
it.

"Shit."

***

James was sitting on the side of the bed when I came out.  I'd doubled
the thickness of the bandage so that it would stay white, even if it bled
again.

"Did Justin hurt you?" he asked.

I shook my head, turned the light off and climbed under the blankets.  He
turned to watch me in the darkness but made no move to lie down.

"What's wrong then?"  His drawl was almost hidden under the force of
his voice.

"A little infection -- nothing to worry about.  They upped my meds, so it
should heal all right."

"Should you see a doctor?"

"I've got an appointment Monday afternoon."

"I'll cancel my meeting."

"You'll do no such thing, James Lance Bass.  I can handle a doctor's
appointment on my own."

"Then I want to hear everything he says, alright?"  He climbed under the
blanket and put his head on my chest.  His hand was carefully placed to
be nowhere near the bandages.  "Whether you think it's worth telling or
not."

I smiled.  "Aye, sir."

"And I'll tell the guys to keep the rough housing to themselves."

"I'm fine, James."

"You're not fine.  You won't be fine until that thing is fully healed.  And
I'm not going to let you leave me out of this again.  You're going to rest
more, and take it easy, and realise that you're not in perfect shape right
now."

"I don't need a nurse."

"Shut up, David.  Just shut up and go to sleep."

I'd never heard that edge to his voice before, but it hung in the air as he
held me.  After a minute he squeezed me really tightly.  I moved one of
my hands to run my fingers through his hair.

"Goodnight, James."

"Night."

***

It starts in my mother's kitchen.  I've never seen the kitchen in the new
house, but I know it's hers because it's carpeted.  She's the only one who
would carpet a kitchen.

Derrick is sitting at the table, alive and calm.  He sips at a small china
cup that is held in his large, rough hands.  I can smell the tea from here;
it's got a strong mint scent.  He looks up at me and he smiles.  I feel
safe.

The door leading to the hall, and to the rest of my mother's house, is
dark.  Black.  The hall itself isn't there -- as if the kitchen was floating
in
a void.

My mother exists in that void.  I can hear her breathing.  I can hear her
coming closer, coming towards the carpeted kitchen.

Derrick -- my Derrick -- the man I shot, but didn't kill -- finishes his
tea.
Mother is just beyond the light of the kitchen, and she is still getting
closer.

Derrick stands and calmly closes the door.

***

He tried not to wake me up in the morning, but as I said before, I'm a
very light sleeper.  I watched him as he walked as quietly as he could
into the bathroom.

I pushed down the blankets and pulled up my shirt.  The bandage was
white.  I peeled the corner down on the bandage and there was no new
blood, just a slight discolouration of the material from some seepage.  I
pressed it back into place and pulled my shirt back down.

James came out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his hair.
He smiled.  "Morning, sunshine."

"They provide towels for that, you know."  I matched his smile.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

I nodded and his smile widened.

"I used Crest."

"Then shut up and kiss me."

And he did.  He climbed onto the bed, straddled my hips and leaned
down to kiss me.

"I wish my alarm clock was this nice," I whispered, wrapping my arms
around his shoulders and pulling him back down.  We met for another
kiss, but his torso resisted the pull, refusing to come down on mine.

"I can take the weight of a cute blond boy."

"You ain't getting it, so don't argue."

He met my scowl with another kiss, which just happened to improve my
mood.  He tipped his weight so that he fell to the bed beside me, and
started nibbling on my earlobe.

"This is your second time going to church with me.  Won't the God of
Atheists get a little mad?"

I grinned.  "He understands that his followers will do strange things for
love."

"You love me?"

"We covered that before.  Yes, I love you, you jerk."

He laughed.  "Good.  And ditto."

"You should write greeting cards."

"NSYNC, FreeLance and you keep me busy enough, thanks.  Did you
bring church clothes?"

I nodded.  "I'm even wearing a cross.  A delightful little cross."

"It looks good on you."

"It looked great on you."

"True."

I bit his neck.

***

This church experience wasn't as dull as the last one.  Justin tagged
along for his dose of God, and he and James were recognised before I'd
climbed out of the cab.  We sat in the middle of a circle of teenagers,
many of whom didn't once look at the minister at the front of the church.

James spent most of the service hushing the preteens and various other
fans, who kept whispering questions and declarations of devotion.  Justin
just stretched his neck to get a better view and ignored the drone of quiet
voices.

I spent the first twenty minutes trying not to laugh, before the situation
became simply annoying.  After that I chatted with the ten year old girl
who was sitting to my right.

"Is JC here?"

"Nope.  He's still sleeping."

"You're not Joey, are you?"

"Nope.  I'm David."

"Didn't think so -- Joey's bigger than you are."

"You like NSYNC?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you here?"

"Kathy loves NSYNC, and she's home sick.  She'll hate it when hears I
sat with them in church."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah.  How do you know them?"

I'm the love of Lance's life.  "Good friend of the group."

James tapped my knee and hushed me.  I smirked and fell quiet, flipping
through a thick papered Bible.

***

"You gonna get a dog?"  James was leaning his head against the
window.  Justin was up front, chatting with the cabbie.  We'd decided to
get some lunch before going back to the hotel.

"I think so.  I want a golden retriever."  I did too, a big fat one.  Not on
the of skinny retrievers -- I wanted one of those ones with the wide
bodies.

"Allergies," James reminded me.

"I'm willing to suffer."

"There are a lot of dogs that won't mess up your allergies."

"My heart's set on a retriever."

"What we want isn't always what we should have."  He turned his head
to look straight at me.

"What?"

His eyes darted to the back of the cabbie's head.  "We'll talk later."

***

We ended up just going through a Mickie Dee's drive thru and heading
back to the hotel.  I just got a McFlurry, since the restaurant had limited
options for a vegetarian.  I was planning on room service.

Joey and Chris were in the hallway of the hotel, playing catch with a
little yellow football.  Buster was sitting in the door to Chris' room,
trying his best to look interested.

Joey looked right at me and pulled his arm back to throw, but James
intercepted.  He gave me a warning glare before he tossed the ball to
Chris.

***

My veggie burger was delivered severely overcooked and on a soggy
bun, but I was too hungry to return it.  Justin, James and I were sitting on
the floor watching TV.  Josh stumbled in wearing red sleeping pants and
a muscle shirt that made him look particularly cute.  He wasn't
completely awake though, so he managed to nod and wave before
collapsing on the bed and slipping into a nap.

During a commercial, Justin tried some small talk.  "Called your folks
yet, Davey?"

I choked on some crunchy burger.  "What?"

"They live in Calgary, don't they?"

"Well, yeah."

"So you gonna see them?  I bet your mom is dying to see you.  I mean,
all conscious and healthy and everything."

He mumbled himself into silence under my blank stare.

James put his chin on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me
from behind.  "What's the matter?"

"Just don't want to see any family."

Justin drained the last of his shake and tossed it into the garbage can.
"You come all the way across the country and you're not even going to
call your mother?"

"Don't plan to."

"Why not?  I mean, it's not like . . ."

"Just watch the show, Justin."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, highlighted by the drone of
the TV, which no-one was watching anymore, and the low, deep snores
of JC.

***

Justin left a few minutes later.  He just stood up and left without a word,
without a look.  As soon as the door closed, James squeezed me and
kissed my neck.

"What's the matter, David?"

"Nothing."

"Between you and your parents."

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, David, not again."

"I don't want to talk about it, James."

He squeezed again.  "You've got twenty-four hours then.  If you don't
spill by then, I'll make you spill."

"Don't push."

"I wouldn't.  But it's the only thing that seems to work with you."

***

I was sentenced to bed rest after that, while James went to make some
calls and finish some business before the concert.  Not that I could sleep
with JC sounding like he'd swallowed some sort of elephant.  The longer
he slept, the louder he got.

And the closer he got.

He didn't sleep in one spot -- he tossed and turned, which made the
snoring very irregular.  But within ten minutes of me lying down, his
head was on my shoulder and his arm was draped over my crossed arms.

I crossed my legs at the ankles, enjoyed the warmth, and tried to shut off
my hearing from inside my brain.  At least HE didn't drool.

James was gone about forty-five minutes.  When he came back he leaned
against the door frame and smirked.

"I've been replaced?" he giggled.

"Jealous?"

"Nope.  A bit turned on, maybe, but not jealous."

I noticed JC's eyes were open, but he was still making the snoring
sounds.  Not quite as real as the normal ones, but James didn't seem to
notice.

"So me and Josh turn you on, James?"

He just upped the smirk to the next level.

I tried another route.  "I thought you weren't attracted to Josh."

Josh's fingers dug into me and his eyes flashed in warning.

"I admit he's cute.  Loud sleeper, but cute."

I giggled.  "He's nice and warm, too."

"Don't get used to it.  Two more phone calls and then I intend to take his
place."  James shook his head and went back into the hall, pulling the
door quietly closed behind him.

As soon as the door was closed JC punched me lightly and sat up.
"What the hell was that?"

"Come on, Josh, you were curious."

"Last thing I need is to know he'd date me if you weren't around.  It
would be easier to have no chance at all!"

He punched me again, landing an unlucky shot.

I folded up with a groan, wrapping myself around my bandage.
Immediately his hands were on my back.  "You okay, David?  I'm sorry.
I forgot about it.  I thought it was pretty well healed."

He pulled me open so that I was lying on my back, then he pulled my
hands away from my stomach.  "Shit," he whispered.  I forced my eyes
open and looked down, seeing the blood soaking through my shirt.

He bounded off the bed.  "I'll get Lance and I'll call an ambulance.  You
just stay there.  Don't move."

I forced myself off the bed and got to the door before he did.  I slammed
my back against the door and back with my right hand.  I swallowed
back the pain, trying to speak.  "You'll tell him nothing, understand?
James doesn't hear about this."

"You need a doctor."

"And I'll see one.  When you guys go for sound checks, I'll claim that
I've got an idea and I need to write it out.  I'll say I'll meet you at the
concert, understand?  I'll be in and out of the emergency room in plenty
of time.  James never has to know."

Josh took a step back, but I left my hand up in the air as a warning.

"I've got to tell him.  The guy is worried sick about you, Dave.  He's got
a right to know."

"Last thing he needs before a concert is knowing that I'm hurt.  I'll tell
him afterwards, Josh -- but you can't say a word to him until I do.
Understand?"

"I'm sorry, David.  I didn't mean to hit you."

"It's not your fault.  Forget about it.  You won't say anything?"

"Nothing."

"Good."

The door moved behind me.  Josh's eyes widened.

>From the other side, James whispered.  "Come on, David -- let me in.
You two better not be getting kinky without me."

I locked the door.  "Give me a minute, and then let him in.  Tell him I'm
taking a bath, alright?"

Josh nodded, looking down at my stomach.  The stain was still
spreading.  I could feel it under my hand.

"Just do it, Josh," I whispered harshly.  I heard the key in the door and
made an awkward dash for the bathroom.

I locked the bathroom door behind me.

***

I ran the bathwater, even though I didn't intend to use it.  I did it
because
I knew they could hear it in the next room.  I hid the shirt under the pile
of towels and peeled away the bandage.  Both layers were solid red.

The sight made me light headed.  I pushed the lid down on the toilet and
sat heavily.  I took another bandage and held it to my side, feeling it soak
through.  I replaced it with another.

The tub overflowed when I reached for the last bandage.  My breathing
was ragged from the panic, and because somewhere along the line I'd
started crying.

I twisted the taps and pulled the plug, dropping towels to the floor for
the water.  I barely made it to the door without falling.  My knees were
as flimsy as the excuses my mind was creating.

I opened the door and stumbled into the bedroom, where James and Josh
were talking in hushed voices on the bed.  They turned to me and I saw
the colour drain from their faces.

"James, call an ambulance."

He caught me before I hit the floor.

***

Part 30

Sound was the first thing that came to me.  Quiet voices.

Infection.  IV.  Three days.  In hospital for three days.  James' voice was
there.  And Josh.  The doctor's voice was familiar.  Carson?  Carter?
Doctor Carter.

And there was a female voice.  One that made me want to slip back into
whatever I'd just escaped from.

"But he'll be fine, Mrs. Sheer.  We're putting him on a new antibiotic,
and we'll keep him here as long as necessary to make sure the infection
is completely gone."

The voices trailed off, and after a moment I felt someone take my hand.
Rough hands, wide hands.  It was James.

I felt his breath on my ear.  "She's gone, David."

The curtains were drawn, so the room was in an almost comfortable
half-light.  James was looking down at me, perched on the side of the
bed.  Josh was peering over his shoulder.

Josh grinned slightly.  "Fancy meeting you here."

"I'm here for a few days?"

Josh nodded.  "At least."

I looked down at my arm, my eyes following the tube to the stinging
sensation.  It beat looking up at James' unblinking stare.

The deep southern drawl was barely audible.  "Josh?  Can we have a few
minutes alone?"

I rallied my strength.  "He can stay.  He knows what you're about to say
as well as I do."

There was silence.  Then I heard Josh walk away.  He sat down in the
chair by the window.  I looked up at James, meeting those green eyes
with my own brown ones.

"What about the concert?"

"Fuck the concert," James said, his voice dead of emotion.

"We cancelled it," Josh added, from across the room.

"No more secrets, David.  You were going to tell me everything.  You
weren't going to leave me out of this."

"It just happened.  I thought I could get it under control."

"Worked out well, didn't it?  How mature is that, David?  We're
supposed to be in a fucking relationship and you nearly bleed to death in
the next room and you weren't even going to tell me."  He was standing
beside the bed now, facing the drawn curtains.  "Sounds like the perfect
damn relationship to me."

"I didn't want to worry you."  I knew it sounded pathetic before I even
finished saying it.  But my options were limited.  Somehow I knew
"Elvis told me to do it" just wouldn't cut it.

"We've been over this.  You tell me everything, whether you want to or
not.  I've got a career, David!  A damn demanding one!  I don't have the
time to follow you around and make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"I am taking care of myself."

"You're back in the hospital, David.  That's not an improvement."

I couldn't dispute that.  In the face of overwhelming odds, I sometimes
know when to surrender.  James rubbed his hands over his face and sat
back down on the bed.  He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.  He
then put his head on the pillow so his mouth was beside my ear.

"I can't keep going through this, David.  Neither can you.  You're damn
lucky, but you have twice the number of stitches you started out with.
The scar will be a lot bigger than it was going to be back in Toronto.
You're going to kill yourself if you keep thinking you're untouchable."

He was crying on the pillow.  My body felt numb, and I couldn't
convince a hand to move up to comfort him.

"They've drugged me."

He sat back up, lines of tears on his red cheeks.  "And they'll keep
drugging you, and you won't complain.  Will you?"

I met his eyes and gave a little smile.  "No, sir."

He squeezed my hand again, a distant feeling.

"And who called my mother?"

"I did," he said, squeezing my hand again.  "It was the only way we
could get in to see you."

I let the anger slide.  "So Josh is an adopted brother now too?"

James gave a sly smile.  "Apparently, you've somehow become related
to everyone in NSYNC."

***

I spent my spare time hallucinating.  I'd watch the TV slide around on
the wall, I'd feel the blankets as they crept up my body -- the bed trying
to tuck me in on it's own.

After an hour of that, with James napping in the chair, I got bored.

"James?"

"Hmm?"  His head moved up, shifting around and trying to focus on his
surroundings and then he was suddenly alert.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  I'm just wondering -- how long is the band in Calgary?"

"As long as we're needed."

"How long?"

"We're scheduled for a week.  But I'm not leaving your side until you're
ready to go."

"You've got a concert tomorrow."

"I already called management to cancel."

"Go."

"No."

"It's only a few hours.  There's a whole hospital staff here.  Go."

"No.  If anything, they can go on without me.  They've done it before.  I
don't have major parts in many of the songs."

"I don't want to fight about this, James.  You said it yourself -- you have
a demanding career.  I'll be fine.  I don't think I'd be able to escape this
place if I wanted to."  I'd thought about it but the drugs had numbed me
to the point where I wasn't sure I could make it across the hall.  Getting
across town to the hotel was out of the question.

And there was James.  I didn't want to get him any madder.  I couldn't
face losing him.

"Can you get my laptop, James?  It'll give me something to do when
you're gone."

"I'll get Chris to bring it over.  The guys are gonna visit in the morning."
He yawned, but tried to hide it.  "You know that, like it or not, you're on
tour with NSYNC until you're fully healed, right?  I'm not sending you
back to Toronto.  I can't trust that you'll take care of yourself."

"I took the pills, James.  Every single one of them.  I changed the
bandages, used the creams.  It's not my fault."

"You don't tear that many stitches by doing nothing.  Face it, David,
you're not in prime shape.  You've got to rest."

I let my head fall back on the pillow.  I couldn't figure out how it'd gone
this way -- why everything had gone down hill so fast.

James wasn't part of me anymore.  He didn't trust me.  And he was mad.
Furious.  And scared to death.

"I love you, James."

"Go back to sleep, David."

***

The guys were huddled in a group by the door, whispering to each other.
My laptop and one of my bags were on the table beside the bed.  I
blinked, trying to get my eyes to focus and traced the lines of pain in my
body.  I was aching.  I looked at my arm and saw the IV was gone.

Joey was the first one to notice I was awake.  He smiled broadly and
moved over to the bed.

"Good morning, sicko.  How you feeling?"

"Sore."

"With the amount of drugs they put into you an hour ago?  I'm surprised
you remember how to talk."

I squinted up at him.  The cheerfulness was forced, I noticed.  Strangely,
realising that it was artificial made me feel better.

He plunged along, trying not to let any silence survive.  "You'll be happy
to know that the blood came right out of the carpet.  Took the hotel staff
about an hour, but you'd never know it was ever there."

I idly wondered why he thought that would make me feel better.

"And this is a nicer hospital than the last one.  The cafeteria food is
edible here.  Your mom is hilarious too, she kept talking about . . ."

He was stopped by Josh's hand on his shoulder.  Josh whispered
something and Joey went pale.  He turned back to me.  "Oh.  Sorry,
Davey."

Chris sat down on the other side of the bed.  "O'Hara was in the news
this morning.  They're giving up on the case for now, until they get more
tips.  They think his killer could've been anyone.  I mean, he wasn't a
popular man after shooting you and all that crap."

I blame the drugs for this next bit.  I never should have said it, even
though it was true.

"I know who did it.  And I hope the police never figure it out."

All of the eyes were turned to me, and I stared right back.

Justin leaned over the foot of the bed.  "Who was it?"

I took a few breaths, trying to regain control of my words.  "Never mind.
Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter, my ass," Joey scoffed, "there's a murderer out there.  If
you know who it is, then you should talk."

I tried to trace back to the exact moment my life became a soap opera.  I
decided it was some time around birth.  A split second before I peed all
over the doctor.  ("A slash from right hip to left shoulder!" my
grandmother used to cackle.)

After a few minutes of silence, they gave up.  Joey muttered something
about me being an "accessory" but he quieted up and just stared out the
window.

James met each of their eyes, and they quietly filed out of the room,
Chris tugging Joey behind him.

"Ignore him, David.  He's just frustrated.  We all are.  You don't realise
how attached they've gotten to you.  Almost protective."

"I don't need their . . ."

He cut me off.  "Who is in the hospital bed?"

I sighed.  "Point taken."

"We're going to be taking shifts, not leaving you alone for a minute."

"There are nurses."  I was beating my head against the wall, and I knew
it.  "And when you're all on stage?"

His face darkened.

"You didn't."  I was staring at him in open-mouthed shock.

"She wants to be part of this.  Part of your life."

I have nothing to blame this next error on.  There was no excuse.  There
can be no excuse.

"You son of a bitch.  You had no right."

He was standing, leaning over the bed, his face red, his lips tight and his
eyes wide.

"Don't you dare blame this on me."  His voice was a strong whisper, a
quiet yell.

And then he was gone.  Out of the room and running down the hallway.
I heard Josh yelling after him, several other pairs of feet on the tiles.

And I thought I knew for sure.  I thought that I would never see him
again.

I underestimated him.

***

Part 31

-Stop.
-What?
-I said stop.
-Why?  What's wrong?
-It didn't happen like that.
-Like what?
-I wasn't as lucid as you wrote me!
-I gave you hallucinations.  I prologued your revelation about Derrick's
murderer.
-I wasn't that harsh to James.
-So what?  So I stretched it a bit.  Biography does that.  Hell, even
autobiography is like that.  It's not reality.
-For me it is.  I don't want people to think I was such a prick.
-When they find out about your mother, they'll understand.
-I don't want them to find out about that.  I want to skip that part.
-It won't make sense if we skip that part.  The David character's
motivations will be all messed up.
-Then make something up -- like you made up the peeing on the doctor
bit.
-Then anyone who knows your mother who finds this story will attribute
what I make up to your mother.  You want that?
-No-one'll find it.  No-one that knows her.
-Then why can't I use what you said really happened?
-
-They'll just think it's fiction anyway, David.  Have you seen how many
of the emails tell me I'm creative?  That one girl who keeps saying
"genius"?  They won't know.
-Then you can't make it overly dramatic like you've been doing to
everything else.  If you're going to err on your portrayal of my family,
err to the innocent.  Promise?
-I wouldn't have started this project if I knew you were going to pull shit
like this.
-Promise?
-Fine.  Promise.

***

A few minutes later, Josh came into the room.

"Didn't I tell you that if you ever hurt him again that I'd kill you or
something?"  He pulled the curtains closed, returning the room to a
comfortable half-light.

"I didn't mean to, Josh.  He knows that, right?  Even forming sentences
right now isn't the simplest thing to do."  I slumped back into the bed,
relaxing all of the muscles in an act of self-pity.

"What did he do?"

"He gave my mother a David-sitting shift."

"And what's so wrong with that?"

I didn't answer.  He sat on the bed and took my hand, squeezing it.

"Lance has mentioned something between you and your mother.  So
what is it?  Did she hit you?  Abandon you?  Ignore you?  Smother you?"

"James doesn't know what she did.  He just knows that I never want to
be around her."

"Then tell me.  I'm not him.  I'm not her.  I'm a safe listener -- whatever
it is."

"I want to talk to James."

"When the guys catch him, they'll drag him back.  Until then, you've got
me."

"And you've got a concert today."

"I'm on my own time for 4 more hours.  Plenty of time.  Spill it."

And I did.

***

I told it all, the entire horror story, from birth on.  Even the bits that I
didn't remember that had been filled in by my brother or sister.  But
there was a lot they didn't know about.  My brother remembered the
anger.  Leaving books out meant having to watch as she tore them up.
Then having to pick up the pages.

My sister remembers the silences.  There were so many things we just
weren't supposed to remember, to discuss, that we ended up saying
nothing.

The time Mom walked out in the middle of dinner, and Dad made us
finish eating quietly.  And then when she came back a week later, how
we were never allowed to ask any questions.

I remember the evenings in Mom and Dad's room -- when Dad was
working and my brother and sister were downstairs with the tv.

And never being able to discuss it.  Or confront it.  Until the silence
guarded itself.  Until there was no way to start talking, because there was
just too much to say.

***

I was amazed at the calm that came with the revelation.  And that I
wasn't the one crying.

"I'm so sorry, David."

JC hugged me as well as well as he could and we just let it go on.

***

"We can take her off the guest list.  Hopefully the hospital won't let her
in."

"No."

"Want me to call her then?  I can ask her not to come."

"Let her come."

I'd spent an hour just talking.  After the initial revelation, the words
came fast and furious, and Josh listened in silence.  Eventually I just ran
out of things to say.

And the things I had said had lost their power.  One less memory eating
away at me.

And then, eventually, I talked my way to sleep.

***

I was lying on a hospital bed, an all to familiar thing, in a white room
surrounded with windows.  Windows that looked out over vast beaches,
ending in water in every direction -- as if this windowed room was at the
centre of a beach island.

Baby blue skies, with those cheesy kid's cotton ball clouds.

To the south -- somehow I knew it was south -- were the guys.  The five
of them jogging along the beach, laughing and pushing.

I smiled, watching them.  Carefree.  James was wearing beige pants,
rolled nearly to his knees, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled
up and the top half unbuttoned.  He met my gaze, and smiled like an
angel.

But I was cold.  I felt frozen to the core.

I looked down to find myself naked, without my bandages.  The wound
was a black void, slowly changing in shape and sliding around my
stomach.

And it was growing, spreading the numbing cold as it inched its way
both up and down, swallowing my hip and my right nipple, sending out
arms of black void that reached away from my body before coming back
down to grasp my wrists and ankles, holding me motionless.  Another
arm reached out to cover my mouth so that I couldn't scream.  Couldn't
call to James.

But I didn't want to call out.

I didn't want to fight.

I wanted to get it over with.

The void spread up my neck, climbing over my chin and up my face.

And then it just stopped.

And I felt Joy's wrinkled hands massaging my legs, bringing back the
warmth.  She smiled down at me, happy and vibrant.

"This isn't the way, David.  You know that.  This isn't the way."

She was right.  And she pushed the void back, massaging it away until it
was trapped again on my stomach, and even then she didn't pause,
massaging until my stomach was scarless, as it had been before Derrick
O'Hara.

"He's waiting for you," she whispered.  Falling away into the air, smiling
in her wizened way.

And James was there, at the window on the south wall, pushing the
window open and holding his hand out for me.

I took it.

***

"David?"

I was being lightly shook.

"David?  Wake up."

I opened my eyes and looked directly into James'.  He wasn't angry.  He
looked like he'd been crying.

"David?  I don't think you're as ready to see her as you think you are."

"How much did he tell you?"

"Everything."

I wasn't mad.  I wouldn't have been able to look into his eyes as I told
him that.  Truthfully, I think my mother is why I was taking it so slowly
with James.  Physically, I mean.

He kissed my forehead.  "You don't just go  snap' and forget everything,
David.  It's not as dealt with as you think it is.  Take my mother as an
example.  I came out to her last week."

My eyes widened.  "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because with Derrick's death and your own healing, I didn't want to
bother you.  And I didn't know what to say -- I don't think it sunk in.
She just changed the topic and the conversation went on."

"You should have told me.  The road goes both ways."

He sighed and lay down beside me.  "I know.  But I'm telling you now."
He snuggled in, and though I still didn't have all of the feeling back in a
lot of my body, I could still feel his warmth.  "I called her today, just to
see how she was.  And out of nowhere, she asked me if I had a
boyfriend.  Just like that.  All calm and friendly, like she was a friend,
not a Southern Baptist mother."  He kissed my neck.  "I told her about
you.  About what you've done, who you are.  She wants to meet you."

"I'm glad it worked out."

"But you get my point, right?  It took her time.  It wasn't an immediate
thing."

I could feel his deep voice rumbling in his chest, and his warm breath on
my neck.  He drummed his fingers on my ribcage.

"I'm sorry for losing control, James."

"Don't worry about it.  I should have asked about her.  I was out of line."

"Don't worry about it.  And I'm sorry to bring you back here.  Into
another hospital."

He laughed.  "Just don't let it happen again."

"I'll do my best."

***

-How was that?
-I wish I dealt with it that well.
-Good enough?
-Good enough.  Thank you.
-Thank *you*.

***
End part 31

Heyhey, happy readers!  Weird, no?  I make no apologies. :) It's the
route the story took, and I just followed along. :) I make no promises
about when the next installment will come out, but I'm aiming for 2
weeks (and my aim is getting better. :)

Email me -- love it or hate it -- at thepoetboy@hotmail.com