Date: Thu, 11 Jul 2002 16:05:37 EDT
From: Keybedder@aol.com
Subject: The River Runs Dry (2/2)

THE RIVER RUNS DRY, PART TWO by K. Nitsua. Copyright 2002 by the author.

Synopsis: Conclusion: Grief and renewed attraction to past loves threaten
to shatter Jon and Kevin's life together. A sequel to "Totaling the
Balance" and "Settling Accounts."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sequel to two previous tales, and the last prequel
to another, "Class Reunion," though the story makes sense on its own. For
those of you who don't know my work, it's one of my longer,
character-driven stories, not a quick stroke tale. Please read all the
stories and let me know what you think. Thanks, KN

SEVEN: THURSDAY, TEXAS

"You free for dinner?"

Kevin looked up. Ward was standing in the kitchen in coat and tie. He had
interviewed for a full-time teaching position at the language conference
that had ended that afternoon.

"How did it go? Think you'll get invited to their campus?"

Ward shrugged. "These hotel interviews are so weird. Only thing I could
tell is that one of the guys was sending out pretty strong vibes."

"Don't blame him." Ward looked as handsome fully dressed as in more
revealing attire, or nothing at all. "Seems like a point in your favor."

"You'd think. No private session in the pool this time, I promise." Ward
winked. Kevin blushed. "Anyhow, I'm beat. And hungry. Want to go eat?"

"Sure." There was no point in refusing his invitation, not since he had
laid bare his feelings, putting himself completely at Ward's mercy. Ward,
however, seemed in no hurry to take advantage of his upper hand.

In the day and a half since that morning in the kitchen nothing more had
happened. Kevin was on tenterhooks, alternating between being relieved and
wondering why Ward was so distant. Perhaps he was toying with Kevin,
getting a little of his own back. Kevin couldn't blame him.

"Let me get this stuff off and we'll go." Ward threw off his jacket, turned
and began to unknot his tie as he walked toward his room. Kevin watched the
muscles in Ward's back and shoulders ripple underneath the dress shirt he
wore. If revenge was on Ward's mind, the desire that was rising in him now
would certainly please him.

They sat at the small, friendly local diner, surrounded by the noisy
conversation of the dinner rush. Almost every table and booth in the place
was occupied.

Ward was talking about the conference as they ate. Even though Kevin had
asked him about it, he found he wasn't listening to a word he was
saying. He was looking at Ward's face, watching the sparkle in his dark
eyes, the firm line of his jaw. He was tracing the movement of Ward's lips
as he spoke, waiting for his teeth to flash when he smiled.

He became aware that Ward had stopped talking.

"Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?"

"And what's that?"

Ward chuckled. "About the life of a hustler, right? Well, a part-time
hustler, at any rate."

Kevin hesitated, then conceded. "Why do you do it, Ward?"

"This is going to sound flip, but why do you think? I make less than half
of what Jon does teaching. And I can make my own hours."

The next question was much more difficult. "Were you doing it, I mean, you
know, when..."

Ward understood. "No, not back then. First time was maybe four, five years
ago--some middle-aged guy in a bar, wouldn't leave me alone no matter how
much I gave him the brush-off. Finally I got pissed and told him it'd cost
him two hundred dollars. He didn't miss a beat, said okay." He shrugged. "I
was in a bind, moneywise. He wasn't that ugly." He grinned, but a trace of
anxiety was in his eyes. "Are you shocked?"

After a moment, Kevin shook his head.

"I haven't changed. Escorting hasn't turned me into some kind of monster,
Kevin."

"Are you going to keep doing it?"

Ward shrugged. "Who knows? I'm already a little on the mature side. I'm
going to have to go the daddy route soon. Maybe get into rougher
stuff. Don't know if I want to do that. Truth is," he said, "I'd give it up
in a second if I found someone I could settle down with."

He gave Kevin a searching look, then a crooked smile. "Don't worry. I know
I can't make you leave Jon. I don't even know if I want you to. It would
kill him."

"Really?"

Ward's expression turned serious. "Don't joke about that. Jon really does
love you." He grinned again. "It would be so much easier for me if he
didn't. I could seduce you with a clear conscience. I'm still going to, but
I feel guilty about it."

Kevin laughed in spite of himself.

On the way home Jon came up again in their conversation.

"Listen," Ward said, "I don't know how much you're going to tell him about
this week, but I'd rather you didn't tell him about the escort part."

"Okay. Though he's more open-minded than you might think."

"He can surprise you, I'll give you that. I told you about our first time,
didn't I? In the gym shower, just before Christmas vacation."

Kevin's eyes widened. "No. Really? Guess where our first time was."

"I don't have a clue."

He couldn't resist a smirk as he said, "Your client isn't the only guy
who's been invited to a private pool party. Watch it," he warned as the car
swerved and nearly ran off the street.

"I never would have thought."

Kevin was on a roll. "When we get home I'll show you his gold cockring."

Ward guffawed. "Oh my god, I don't believe it."

They stood in Jon and Kevin's bedroom. Kevin opened a drawer, seldom used
these days, and drew out the ring. He handed it to Ward, who turned the
lustrous yellow metal object over in his hand.

"Beautiful."

"It belonged to Jon's first lover. He died a long time ago."

Ward looked at Kevin, his gaze meaningful. "Want to model it for me?"

Kevin swallowed. The moment had arrived, but still he tried to pull
back. "To tell the truth, I've never worn it. I'm scared it'll get stuck,
or something."

Ward smiled. "Okay if I try it on?"

"Not here." His scruples seemed faint and foolish.

"Fair enough. Let's go to my room. Or better yet, I'll go get ready. You
come in a few minutes."

Kevin nodded. Ward left, ring in hand.

"Come on in," his voice said in response to Kevin's knock. He entered the
bedroom and stopped short.

Ward lay on his back on the bed, arms behind his head, naked except for a
black leather vest. His pubes were trimmed, so the gold ring was clearly
visible, nestled around his cock and balls, causing the veins on his shaft
to stand out. The head of his cock was engorged and purple. He grinned.

"How's this?"

Kevin licked his lips. "Nice," he croaked.

Ward extended his arms. "Come on in, the water's fine."

Later, Kevin lay face down on the bed as Ward drove into him. He felt the
metal pressing in a steady rhythm against his buttocks, a slow fire
building in his gut. Kevin crumpled the sheet with both fists, crying half
in lust, half in despair, feeling hot wetness spread beneath him as Ward's
thrusts against his prostate brought him to orgasm without touching
himself.

EIGHT: FRIDAY, SAN FRANCISCO

"Could you be a little more careful? The pavement's pretty bumpy," Matt
said. He was sitting in the wheelchair, Boyd pushing.

"Yeah, yeah." Boyd winked at Jon. "You'd think he was a total invalid. Too
much complaining and guess who's going to walk."

Jon winced a bit at the casual ribbing, but Matt seemed to take it in
stride. He was feeling good today, good enough that the three of them had
decided to go out to Fort Point before having dinner in the Castro. Now
that they were here Jon wondered whether it had been a good idea for Matt's
health. It had turned out to be a cloudy, cool day and out here, close to
the water, the breeze made the air seem even chillier. Jon wore a
windbreaker and they had covered Matt with a blanket. Only Boyd seemed
almost defiant in his usual T-shirt.

Matt, though, was smiling, enjoying himself. He loved coming to the Point,
a historic spot on the bay with spectacular views of the Golden Gate
Bridge. The breeze whipped the water into a million whitecaps. If they
looked closely enough they could see vehicles, like ants, tirelessly
traversing the bridge. Sea birds wheeled in the gray skies above.

They made their way onto the pier that jutted out into the bay. Matt looked
up at Jon and grasped his arm, smiling. "I'm so glad we could do this
today. The three of us."

"You're sure you're not getting cold, Matt?" Jon asked.

Matt shook his head. "I'm looking forward to dinner, though."

Boyd's eyes met Jon's and sent a silent signal. Jon looked at Matt, sitting
with a slight frown on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. "We
should go if we're going to make our reservation."

Boyd had chosen Luna Piena, a small place in the Castro. "It's quiet, cozy,
and wheelchair-friendly," he had told Jon. As the sunlight faded on the day
they sat in the patio area in back, amid plants and trickling fountains,
Jon and Boyd sipping drinks, Matt nursing a cup of herbal tea.

As dinner progressed the mood became more and more relaxed. They shared
from each other's plates and exclaimed over the quality of the food. "This
is so tasty," Matt said, spearing a piece of fish. "Amazing what a
difference a little seasoning makes."

Jon shot a glance at Boyd, who was beginning to do a slow burn. Matt
laughed at his buddy. "Gotcha."

Boyd looked at Jon and shrugged in mock despair. "I try and look out for
him, and this is the thanks I get."

"You do a great job, Boyd," Jon said. Matt took Boyd's arm.

"You know I'm just giving you a hard time." He looked across the table at
Jon. "This has been the best week, thanks to you guys."

They became somber at the thought that it was almost over. Jon would be
flying back to Texas tomorrow. He raised his glass.

"Well, it's not over yet. I'm going to have another drink. Anyone want to
join me?"

Later that evening Jon waited with Matt in his wheelchair at the front door
for Boyd, who was putting the car in the garage. The door opened and they
met just inside.

Momentary silence fell. Then Boyd said, "Well, I ought to get going."

"I know it's real late, but can you help me get ready for bed?"

"Sure," Boyd said. Jon felt a pang of hurt that Matt had not asked him. As
if in response, Matt turned to him at that moment. "You can come up too, if
you want."

They got Matt up to his bedroom. Boyd helped him remove his shirt and
undershirt. By now Jon felt no shock at seeing his friend's wasted body,
only tender protectiveness.

Boyd took Matt's arm and lowered him to the edge of his bed. "Jon, can you
get his shoes?"

He bent down at Matt's feet to help as requested. The bed moved. Jon saw
that Boyd had sat next to Matt, a plastic tube in one hand.

"I'm going to rub you with this. Your skin's not looking so good."

Matt looked down at Jon and winked, despite his fatigue. "Mm, goody."

Boyd squeezed some lotion into his hand and began to apply it to Matt's
shoulders and back, massaging it in. Jon sat on the floor, feeling as if he
were intruding, yet unable not to watch. Neither of the others seemed to
mind. Matt's eyes were half-closed, his mouth slightly open in peaceful
enjoyment. After a while Boyd raised one leg and threw it across the bed
behind Matt, moving until he was cradling Matt's body in front of him,
their heads almost touching. He took another handful of lotion and began to
massage Matt's chest and stomach. Matt's breathing deepened and his head
fell back against Boyd's shoulder. His buddy kissed him on the cheek as his
hands caressed his nipples, then traveled lower. They began to unbuckle
Matt's belt. Jon rose.

"Where are you going?" Matt asked.

"I'll leave you two alone." The thought of Matt and Boyd together put him
in a turmoil of desire and jealousy. He didn't know if he could stay in the
house while they made love in the next room.

Matt's eyes were steady. "Don't go, Jon."

To his amazement Boyd nodded agreement. "Stay."

At a loss, he smiled and stammered, "I'm... well, I'm not really into
watching."

Boyd gave him the level stare that had become familiar. There was no
hostility in it now, only a message whose strength and clarity took his
breath away. "Who said anything about watching?"

He extended his hand. When Jon got near enough it found the swelling bulge
between his legs and rubbed it.

"The first time I saw you in the airport I liked your body," Boyd
said. "When I caught you in the shower with Matt I saw you had a cock to
match."

His other hand tugged at Jon's wrist. Moving as if in a dream, Jon
bent. Their mouths met in a slow kiss, tongues tangling. He felt Matt's
breath in his left ear, heard his whisper.

"Make love to me, Jon. Make love to us."

It was a dying man's wish. He obeyed.

NINE: SATURDAY, SAN FRANCISCO AND TEXAS

Jon awoke the next morning alone, in the guest room where he had been
staying. Bright sunlight was pouring in through the second-story window,
reflecting off the walls. A sour taste was in his mouth. He threw back the
covers. Sweat and dried substances clung to the skin and hair on his body.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning Jon had awakened on Matt's bed,
Boyd's body next to his, one arm flung across his chest. He could hear
Matt's harsh, raspy breathing nearby. He had managed to extricate himself
without awakening either of them and padded down the hallway to his own
bed, carrying his clothes.

Other memories began to trickle back from the previous night.

Kneeling naked in front of Matt and Boyd, sitting side by side at the edge
of the bed, sucking Boyd's cock while grasping Matt's erection in his hand,
pumping it.

Lying face down between Matt's outstretched legs, tonguing his scrotum and
his shaft, not letting himself put the head of his cock in his
mouth. Meanwhile, Boyd's tongue snaked up his hole, his beard scratchy on
the tender skin of his butt. A few minutes later he gasped in pain as his
hard, thrusting cock impaled him.

Eventually he had gotten his revenge, flipping Boyd on his back, hastily
pulling on a condom and entering him while looking at the ridges on his
stomach. As he drove into his ass they had kissed again, bathing each other
with their hot breath and spit. He had looked up to see Matt lying next to
them, watching them fuck with intense concentration, hand moving on his own
cock.

Boyd had cum first, sperm flying across his hard abdomen as he cried
out. Jon had cum himself then, screwing his eyes shut and shouting "Fuck!"
as he exploded into the rubber inside the tight hole squeezing his
cock. All the while he had been dimly aware of Matt's weaker cries at his
side. As soon as he could he had opened his eyes, and seen the streaks of
liquid pooling on pale skin. He looked up into Matt's face. He was still
trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving. He had smiled at Jon, tender
and sweet.

"Thank you."

Deliberately Jon replayed their lovemaking with no emotion or judgment,
letting the stream of vivid, silent images run through his brain as if he
were watching a film.

For the moment, he could live with himself. He sat up and walked into the
bathroom.

Brushing his teeth and taking a hot shower restored some sense of physical
normality. He got dressed, opened the door of his room and looked down the
hallway. The door to Matt's room was shut and there was no sign of
activity.

A pleasant scent of cooking food and noises from the kitchen drifted up
from downstairs. The moment could no longer be postponed. Jon descended the
stairs, walked across the living room and entered the kitchen.

Boyd was at the stove, his back to him. He turned and nodded toward the
table. "Good morning. Want some coffee?"

"Sounds good, thanks." Jon sat at the small kitchen table and poured
himself a cup.

"Want some breakfast?" Boyd asked. "I'm making something to take up to
Matt. I doubt he'll be down this morning." He gestured to a tray near him
on the counter.

"Will I be able to see him?"

Boyd nodded. "I'm sure he'll want to talk to you, Jon. Just give him some
time to get going. Last night took a lot out of him." He smiled with the
barest hint of a wink. "Took a lot out of me, too."

Jon said nothing. Boyd picked up the tray. "I'm going up. There's scrambled
eggs in the pan. Make yourself some toast if you like. I'll be back."

As he passed by Boyd stopped, his body lightly pressing against Jon's
shoulder. "Jon, let's talk, okay?"

A faint spark of the electricity that had passed between them rose in Jon
at Boyd's touch. He looked up. Their eyes met. "Sure."

Boyd nodded, and was gone. Jon took a sip of coffee, strong and bitter.

It hadn't been much of a struggle to accede to Matt's request. He couldn't
blame it on the drinks he'd had at dinner. Boyd had found him attractive
from the first moment he saw him. Hadn't he felt the same? Even now Jon was
getting hard thinking about the younger man's body and the abandon with
which he had used it.

Matt had sensed their attraction. He had played them off against one
another, knowing that initial antagonism would only heighten their mutual
desire. Unable with his sick and broken body to satisfy his own needs, Matt
had induced them to play out his fantasies.

His longtime partner hadn't counted in the equation at all. Matt didn't
give a shit about Kevin, or what he might have done to Jon's
relationship. But why should he? Why should a dying man be generous toward,
or even considerate of, someone he had met once and would never know?

He could have stopped it. He alone was to blame. He could rationalize all
he wanted about the understanding he and Kevin had, about the space they
had always given each other. He had actually been proud that he and Kevin
had never sat and hashed the issue out, had trusted each other to know what
the boundaries were.

Whatever they were or had been, he had blown them to hell. All he could do
now was assess the damage and determine how much, or if, things could be
fixed.

He wished he were more sure they could.

Jon Evans sat staring into space, his eyes dry, the coffee growing cold in
his cup. He was still in that position when Boyd returned.

"Jon?" Boyd sat by him. "You haven't eaten anything."

He tried to smile. "I'm not hungry. Sorry you went to all that trouble."

Boyd shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How's Matt?"

"Just woke up. He's okay, very tired as you can imagine. He does want to
see you before you go."

A lump rose in Jon's throat. "Jesus, I hope I can get through this."

Boyd reached out and grasped his forearm. "You will. You've done so much
for him already."

A short, bitter laugh escaped him. "Sure have. Probably wrecked my
relationship, for starters."

"Don't do this to yourself."

"Why the hell not? It's true."

"Are you so sure your partner won't understand?"

"That I had a three-way with my ex-lover who's dying of AIDS, and his
Shanti Project buddy? Kind of a tall order."

Suddenly he pounded his fist on the table, so that the china
rattled. "Bastard. He's always regretted letting me go to Kevin. This is
his way of getting his own back."

Boyd withdrew his hand. His eyes were icy and flat, but his voice stayed
calm. "No one forced you."

Jon stared at him. His rage found a new target. "Or you. Of course, you've
already fucked a client. What does another breach of ethics matter?"

They glared at each other. Then Boyd dropped his eyes. "You're right." He
heaved a sigh.

"After Matt--passes on, I'm resigning from the Project, and I'll tell them
why. I haven't just broken the rules. I've smashed them into little pieces
and stomped on them. You think I don't know that?"

He looked up. "But I don't care. Matt's been totally worth it. And so,
Professor, have you." His steady gaze made the blood rise to Jon's
face. "C'mon. You didn't exactly have a horrible time last night."

Jon could no longer meet his eyes. "You know I enjoyed it," he said in a
low voice.

Boyd took his hand. Jon didn't pull away. "We did it for someone we both
love. Maybe your partner will understand that."

Jon tried to smile. "You're more ethical than I thought. You didn't even
try and suggest not telling him."

Boyd leaned forward and kissed him. "You're not capable of that. That's a
compliment." He stood. "Ready to see Matt now?"

Jon closed his eyes. After a moment he nodded.

"I'll go upstairs and make sure he's ready for you." A pat on his shoulder
and Boyd was gone.

At the foot of the stairs a few minutes later he said to Jon, "You might
want to get packed after you see him. I'm driving you out to the airport."

"And leaving Matt alone?"

"I've asked another buddy to come and spell me for a few hours. He'll be
okay."

Jon nodded, and turned to go up. "Jon?" Boyd touched his arm.

"What?"

"Matt's in a really good place. You don't have to worry about upsetting
him."

Jon shook his head. "It's not him I'm worried about."

The stairs seemed twice as long and steep as when he had come down. For
long moments he stood outside Matt's room. Finally he knocked, and heard a
voice inside say, "Come in."

He didn't know what he had expected to see, but Matt seemed much as usual,
sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows. Boyd had helped him put on
pajamas and a blue dressing gown. The breakfast tray he had brought up
earlier sat by the bed, almost untouched.

Matt's face brightened. "Jon," he said, "I've been waiting for you. Come
sit." He gestured to a chair by the bed.

Jon moved forward and took the offered seat. Matt extended a hand and he
cradled it in his own. It was warm with the perpetual fever Matt ran these
days. They sat in silence for a moment.

"How are you?" Jon asked.

A shrug from Matt. "Oh, okay. Very tired." He smiled. "Last night kind of
wore me out."

"It got pretty wild."

"I heard you and Boyd downstairs. You aren't upset with each other, are
you?"

"How could I be. He's your lifeline."

Matt shifted his body and frowned, staring off into space. "I didn't plan
for any of this to happen, Jon."

Jon said nothing. Matt squeezed his hand. "Boyd is very special to me,
yes. But you're the only man I've ever loved."

Jon's vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears.

"I was thinking," Matt said, "How little time we spent together."

Images flashed through Jon's mind--meeting Matt for the first time in the
restaurant, shy but eager, anxious to get back to his family. Stolen
moments at the lake, in a motel room in Houston. That fevered, sad night in
Matt's empty house just before he left town, when he had topped him for the
first time. Matt crying in his arms a decade later, as he told Jon about
his wife's illness and death. Someone taking a picture of the three of
them, Jon, Matt and his son David, at Steelman's commencement four years
ago (where had Kevin been?).

The hollow fear when Matt had called a few months after that, to tell him
that he had tested positive.

"They've been some times, haven't they?" he said to Matt, trying to smile.

"The best," Matt said. "And this is the last."

Jon nodded, unable to speak.

"I had to have you close one more time, Jon. Can you understand that?"

Jon cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "Yes."

"Will Kevin understand, do you think?"

"I don't know."

Matt's eyes were bright with fever as they searched Jon's face. "I hope he
will." He released Jon's hand and lay back against the pillows, staring
into space. "I've caused you so much trouble."

Jon's voice was steady. "Matthew Mulroy, I have never regretted knowing you
for one second."

Matt closed his eyes. "Thank you." Just when Jon thought Matt might have
fallen asleep, he opened his eyes, now cloudier. "You need to go soon,
don't you?"

Jon nodded. Tears threatened him again.

Matt squeezed his hand once more. "Thank you for coming to see me."

Jon stood, his voice cracking as he tried to keep his composure. "I
wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"Give me a hug." Jon bent and took hold of Matt's body, skin and bones,
feeling the frail arms clutching at his back. He buried his face in Matt's
neck, stroking his hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo, sweat and the
faint, unmistakable odor of illness, cataloging every sensation, willing
himself never to forget any detail of this moment. A sob rose in his chest
as he finally let go and rose. Both he and Matt tried to smile.

"Safe journey, Jon."

"You too, Matt."

Matt nodded. "God bless."

"Goodbye." Jon barely got the word out. He turned and walked out of Matt's
room for the last time, not looking back. Numb, he went to the bathroom to
gather up his things. With trembling hands he tried to stuff his shaving
bag. A small medicine container slipped from his grasp. The lid was loose
and white pills went flying across the tiles.

"Shit!"

On his elbows and knees on the cramped floor, Jon Evans cried.

There was little conversation between them as they sped down the freeway
out of the city and toward the airport. At one point Jon felt Boyd's hand
cover his own. He looked up, but Boyd's eyes were on the road.

After Jon had checked in they paused in front of the security checkpoint.

"Boyd, thank you for everything."

"My pleasure."

Jon looked down at his feet. "I owe you an apology for what I said
regarding your relationship with Matt. I've no right to judge you or
anyone."

Boyd grasped his shoulder. "Don't sweat it. I said things I'd rather forget
too."

"There's just one more thing I'd like you to do for me."

"Name it."

He forced the tears back. "I never told Matt I loved him. I probably won't
get another chance. Would you tell him for me?"

"I'm sure he knows. But I will."

"You'll keep me informed of..." Jon could not finish the sentence.

Boyd nodded. "We'll stay in touch, you can count on it." He stepped forward
and hugged Jon, a prolonged, warm embrace. "Take care. Safe journey."

The plane was not full and Jon was by himself in a window seat, for which
he was grateful. Try as he might he could not control his tears when he
thought of the week just past and of Matt, fighting his last battle. He
read the airline magazine cover to cover, not comprehending a word, then
leaned back and closed his eyes, longing for oblivion that would not come.

By the time the plane landed at the Austin-Bergstrom Airport Jon was
exhausted. Walking up the jetway with other passengers took all his
strength. How would he react when he finally saw Kevin again? Jon found
himself simultaneously wanting and dreading the sight of him.

He reached the general exit from the secured area. Many people stood just
beyond the gate, waiting to meet arriving passengers. He saw a familiar
head of straight blond hair. Kevin had not seen him yet--he was leaning on
the railing, his back turned, engaged in conversation with a
companion. Happy recognition clouded as he saw the closeness of the two
men's heads, the air of confidence between them. After a moment he
recognized the other man as Ward.

Just at that moment Ward caught sight of him. He lifted his hand in a
friendly wave. Kevin looked up. Was he imagining things, or was his
expression less than welcoming?

Whatever his doubts, the hug from his partner brought Jon's tears rising
again. Kevin looked concerned. "You look beat. Are you okay, Jon?"

He shrugged. "Oh, sure. I'm okay. I said goodbye this morning to someone
I'll never see again, but I'm okay."

Kevin's face remained grave and sympathetic. "Let's get you home."

Jon saw Ward looking at him, his expression likewise solicitous. "And what
are you doing here?" The question came out more sharply than he had
intended. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's okay, Jon. Actually, I'm about to take off." He saw that Ward was
holding a carry-on bag. "Back to where you just came from. My plane leaves
in a couple of hours."

He stepped forward and put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't
get to visit more, Jonno. And I'm sorry about Matt."

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He watched as Ward shook hands
with, then embraced Kevin. The intimacy of the stance he'd seen them in
moments before nagged at him. He listened to their parting words but picked
up no clue from their ordinary sentences.

"Thanks for everything, Kevin. See you soon?"

"Safe journey, Ward. Take care."

"Bye, Jon." He strode off toward the line of passengers waiting to pass
through the checkpoint.

Jon felt Kevin's hand on his arm. "Let's get your bags and go home."

After Matt's small, neat townhouse, packed with the possessions of a
lifetime, his own residence seemed cavernous and wasteful. Kevin followed
him into their bedroom. As Jon put down the bag he was carrying he felt his
partner's arms encircle him from behind.

"I'm glad you're back." He laid his head on Jon's shoulder. "I was thinking
we'd go out to dinner. How about Wildfire? It's your favorite. We haven't
been there in a long time."

"Sure." Instead of calming him, Kevin's affection increased Jon's
uneasiness. He knew, though, that if he forced the issue he would be
powerless to limit the discussion. Was he prepared to reveal his own inner
demons?

He debated the question to himself all through dinner. Kevin appeared not
to notice anything amiss and chatted with animation about events that had
happened in his absence.

"Did you and Ward patch things up?"

"What?" Kevin blinked.

"I was worried about you two. You didn't seem to be getting along for some
reason."

"Oh, that. It was nothing, we're fine now."

He waited for some further explanation but Kevin changed the subject.

Back home he went into the bedroom to unpack his things. Jon had brought an
extra tube of toothpaste and other toilet articles on the trip. He decided
to put them in the guest bathroom, off the bedroom Ward had vacated that
morning.

He took up the used towels off the rack to wash them and opened the
medicine cabinet. It was empty save for one object.

On the second shelf from the bottom lay a plain golden ring, much too large
to be jewelry. For an instant Jon's mind went blank, then a burning flush
spread over his face, ears and neck.

Without conscious thought he picked it up, turned it over and noted the one
small notch that identified it. In a daze, he put in his pocket and walked
toward the study where he knew Kevin was working.

Kevin looked up from the computer as Jon entered the room. Without speaking
he took the cockring out of his pocket and tossed it at the desk. It hit
the computer, just missing the screen, and clattered down onto the
keyboard. The monitor quacked in protest as it landed on several random
keys.

He looked at Kevin. His face was pale.

"Where did you find that?"

"What was Ward doing with it?"

Kevin hesitated, then spoke. "I didn't tell you what I found out. Ward's a
part-time hustler. That explains his body, and how he can take these trips
when he doesn't have a full-time job."

"So what? He forgot his cockring at home, so you lent him ours to take on
his outcalls? Don't bullshit me, Kevin."

"Okay. He and I... had sex once."

"Oh Christ." Jon's hand went to his forehead.

Kevin extended a hand as if to appease him. "It just happened. I thought we
said it was okay to play once in a while."

"Maybe we did, but Jesus, Kevin! Ward's our friend. And in our house."

"He... wanted to. I couldn't say no."

"You're not an altar boy. You're a grown man. I thought you had some
self-control, not to mention respect for us."

Defiance rose in Kevin's eyes. "Respect? Running off to see an old
boyfriend just when things were finally good between us. That's respect."

Jon's jaw tightened. "Leave Matt out of this."

"Because he's got AIDS? You've always put him first."

"That's not true."

"You can't even see it. You don't see lots of things that are staring you
in the face."

"Like what?"

He saw a momentary flicker in Kevin's face, then his expression hardened
once more. "Ward. He didn't come back here to see you, he came to see me."

Jon caught himself, confused. "What do you mean? You guys were never really
serious."

Kevin lowered his eyes. "Ward was in love with me in California. He was
furious when I left."

His voice became soft and Jon strained to hear his words. "I had feelings
for him too."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know. I missed you. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want Ward
to look bad to you."

Jon felt as if he might suffocate. He had been deceived all along, not only
by the man he had lived with for eight years but another man he had loved,
and thought of as a friend.

He began to pace around the study, the word drumming in his head. Deceived.

"Jon, please say something."

He turned and looked into Kevin's anxious face. He was surprised at his
ability to keep his voice calm and controlled. "You're right. I did put
Matt first this week. So you fucked your old boyfriend? So did I."

His partner's face went white with shock. Somewhere inside Jon heard a
small voice warning him not to cross the final line. He ignored it.

"Matt has a buddy from the Shanti Project. You'd like Boyd, he's hot. The
three of us had quite a party the night before I left."

Tears welled in Kevin's eyes. Without a word he rushed from the study.  A
moment later Jon heard a door slam. He had gone into the guest apartment.

His stomach churned as sick despair overwhelmed him. What had he done?

Aware that it was hopeless, he went down the hall and tried the door, then
rattled it and pounded on the wood. "Kevin? I'm sorry. Please open the
door."

Long after he knew Kevin would not answer he begged and pleaded, then gave
up and went to their bedroom. In the dark silence he collapsed onto the bed
fully clothed. Some hours later sleep finally overtook him.

TEN: SUNDAY, TEXAS

His first thought when he woke was to find Kevin. The door to the guest
bedroom stood open. It was empty. So was the rest of the house. Nothing was
missing except Kevin's laptop, which he had been working on in the study.

Jon went through his routines that day in a mindless daze, hoping that his
partner would return at any moment, afraid to face him, haunted by that
stricken face he had seen last night.

He called Kevin's university office number several times. There was no
answer and Kevin didn't call back. E-mails he sent to Kevin's university
address produced no reply.

He forced himself to eat though he had no appetite, tried and failed to
prepare his classes that would resume the next day, tried to watch
television but could not sit still. The only activity that relieved him for
a while was working out. There was no trace of his partner when he came
home from the gym.

He sat in the living room late that evening, having given up trying to do
anything, yet knowing he would not sleep if he went to bed. He jumped as
the cordless phone on the table by him rang, then grabbed it, filled with
desperate hope.

"Jon?" It was not Kevin's voice.

"Who is this?"

"Sorry. This is Rolf Schlosser. I'm a friend of Kevin's. He asked me to
call you."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Yes. He's over here, with Cary and me." Jon recalled who Rolf was. He and
his lover were buddies of Kevin from UT. He had met them once, briefly.

"Could I talk to him?"

A pause on the other end. "He doesn't want to talk to you. He's going to
stay here awhile. He asked me to come over to your place and pick up some
of his things. That's why I'm calling."

His heart sank. Kevin was determined to stay away. Perhaps he was never
coming back. He forced the thought from his mind.

"So could I come by?"

With a start Jon realized he was still on the phone. "Yes. Rolf,
please--. Never mind. If he won't come to the phone, could you give him a
message at least. Tell him I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"Okay." A pause, then Rolf spoke, his tone harder. "Look, Kevin hasn't told
us exactly what happened. But judging from the way he is right now, sorry
doesn't begin to cover it. I'll be over in half an hour." He cut the
connection. Jon sat in the darkening room holding the dead receiver,
staring into space.

ELEVEN: LATER THAT WEEK, TEXAS

"Hello, Jon."

It was a woman's voice. He looked up, surprised, from his desk. Time was
crawling by during his office hours this week. As usual, they had passed
with hardly any students wanting to see him. His visitor now was not a
student.

"Mary, how nice to see you. Come in."

Mary Lewis hesitated, then accepted his invitation.

"Have a seat."

"I can't stay long. I'm here to discuss business with Elden."

"Sounds kind of formal."

"It is." She lowered herself into a nearby chair. "We're seeing a lawyer
tomorrow to draw up a separation agreement."

"What?" Jon wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.

Mary nodded. "I've already moved out of the house." She smiled, her eyes
not meeting his. "Probably more than you want to know. I'm sure it's more
than Elden wants you to know."

"But, Mary, why--" Jon stopped, embarrassed.

"It's all right. I decided I've put up with his ego long enough. I'm sick
of having no friends because of his arrogance. I'm sick of the way he
treats people. Like you when you were nice enough to invite us to your
promotion party."

"Mary, are you sure? After, what it is it, thirty years?"

"Thirty-two." She nodded. "I'm scared to death. But I'm also
excited. Sometimes you've just got to get yourself out of an unbearable
situation."

Jon sat silent, wondering whether Kevin was thinking similar thoughts.

Mary rose. "I've got to go. If I miss his office hours he won't see me."
She laughed, as if realizing the absurdity of the situation anew.

At Jon's door she paused, then spoke again. "I heard that you and Kevin are
having problems too. I hope you can work them out. Better than Elden and
me."

It was well after dark when he began to walk home from campus. He had eaten
dinner at the Steelman cafeteria, as he had done most of that week. Coming
home to an empty house was something he wanted to postpone as long as he
could.

Some distance down the street from the house he stopped in his
tracks. Kevin's car was in the driveway. Jon was filled with mingled joy
and apprehension. The house itself was dark and silent and he saw no sign
of activity. After a moment, he walked forward, determination in his steps.

When he tried the front door it was unlocked. "Kevin?" he called as soon as
he was inside. No answer. Jon walked through the house, flipping on light
switches.

He opened the kitchen door and looked out at the pool. In the semidarkness
he saw a shadowy figure in one of the deck chairs on the near side, back
turned.

"Kevin!"

For a moment there was no response, then whoever it was stirred and picked
up a glass on the metal table next to the chair. Jon heard the faint clink
of ice cubes.

"I came here to pick up some more stuff," Kevin said.

His heart was pounding, but Jon forced himself to sound calm. "How long
have you been here?" He walked forward until he was standing by the chair
in which Kevin was stretched out. His partner stared at the still water.

"A couple of hours. I haven't made much progress."

Jon concentrated on keeping his voice steady. "Maybe that means you don't
want to leave."

Kevin looked up at him. His eyes caught the light. Usually they were a dead
giveaway, but Jon found he could not read their expression.

"Why the hell should I stay?"

"I don't know a reason in the world why you should. Except I'll miss you."

"The way you missed me at Matt's?"

Pain stabbed his heart at the thought of the harsh words he had hurled. "I
shouldn't have told you that way. I'm sorry."

Kevin turned back toward the pool. "Doesn't matter. None of it matters."

Jon felt desperate. He had to break through this leaden wall Kevin was
building around himself. "Kevin, what we have matters."

A mirthless chuckle. "Sure doesn't seem like it."

He knelt by the chair, willing Kevin to look at him. "I've taken you for
granted. I've taken us for granted. It's my fault."

Kevin shifted his body and sighed. "Don't take all the blame. I've done my
part to screw this up."

"That's not important. What's important is that you chose me, and I chose
you. All the feelings I had for you eight years ago are still here."

"Funny way of showing it."

Jon bowed his head. "I know. Give me a chance to do better. Please."

Kevin sighed again. "I came to start moving out of this place. Instead I've
been getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself." He took a swig from his
glass. "I try and hate you, but I can't."

He felt silent. Jon waited, hardly daring to breathe.

"Okay." As Jon's heart gave a leap of joy, he added, "I'll stay here
tonight. If it feels right, I'll stay here tomorrow night. Any time it
stops feeling right, I'm out of here. All right?"

The hard edge in his voice chilled him, but Jon tried to smile. "Fair
enough."

To his surprise Kevin reached out and grasped his shoulder. "I know I'm
being a shit. Why don't you call my bluff? Throw me out?"

Words rose to Jon's lips. Because I love you. Except I love Matt maybe even
more than you. Matt will soon be dead and I'll be all alone, except for
you. He said none of these things. Instead he forced a smile and laid a
hand on top of Kevin's.

"You know I'm not going to do that. Let's go inside."

TWELVE: LATE APRIL, TEXAS

When the phone call came it was early evening. The caller ID displayed
Matt's number after two rings. Jon picked up the phone in the kitchen, his
heart in his throat.

"Jon, it's Boyd."

"He's gone, isn't he?"

"Yes. About four o'clock this morning. It was very peaceful. I'm sorry I
didn't call sooner but I knew you'd be teaching today. I didn't want to
leave a message."

"How are you holding up?"

Boyd's heavy sigh filled Jon's ear. "I'd like to just sit down and bawl,
but there's no time. Matt talked about making his will with me and I know
he was going to name David as his executor. That's good. When the other
relatives descend, then things will get ugly."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

"Believe me, you don't want to be here. Anyway, you already helped. Matt
was so happy you came. He was talking about it the day he passed away."

Jon drew a shaky breath. "Thank you for telling me that."

"There are plans in the works for a memorial here. Not the official family
funeral. I'll save that for later, though. Take care of yourself, Jon."

"You too, Boyd."

He put down the phone and stood, looking straight ahead. Kevin had come
into the kitchen and heard the conversation. He touched Jon's shoulder.

"Jon, I'm sorry."

Grief, sharp and hot, began to shoot through the numbness that enveloped
him. He shook his head.

"It's for the best." He stood rigid as Kevin embraced him. His fists
clenched, his body shook as he fought to maintain control. He repeated,
"It's for the best," even as his voice broke and tears began to course down
his cheeks.

Kevin stroked his back, uttering soothing sounds, trying to comfort
him. But Jon would not put his head on his shoulder.

EPILOGUE: JULY, SAN FRANCISCO

The ride in Boyd's car down the winding road to Fort Point was quiet. Ward
sat in the front next to Boyd, who drove. Jon concentrated on looking out
the window at the scenery going by.

He and Kevin sat in the back seat, a mahogany box containing Matt's ashes
between them. Once they would have held hands. In the months since Jon's
return from San Francisco, though, an invisible barrier had kept them apart
much of the time. They treated each other like new acquaintances, careful
not to tread into still sensitive areas. Dinner conversations were polite
and attentive. The same could be said of the few times they had made love.

Right now they were sitting in the same car with the two men who had,
intentionally or not, almost destroyed them. He had his doubts about this
whole idea. Still, Matt had wanted this--had put it in his will. He had
also specifically requested that Kevin be present. Kevin in turn had
insisted on inviting Ward. "We can't come all the way out here and not see
him." Jon conceded that he was right. So far, things had been all right,
but tension lurked beneath the surface of their mundane chat. He and Ward
had never talked of what had happened while Jon had been away. He didn't
know how much Kevin had told him.

In the driver's seat, Boyd was talking to Ward.

"You wouldn't believe the hassle I had to go through to get permission to
do this. Permits from the city and from the park. Endless paperwork. In the
eyes of the law what we're doing today is polluting."

"Well, that makes a kind of sense, I guess."

"Actually, the Shanti Project helped a lot with the red tape. Over the
years they've had plenty of experience helping people wanting to lay their
loved ones to rest," Boyd said, his jaw set in a grim line. "I only hope
someone will do the same thing for me when the time comes."

Jon cast a sidelong glance at Kevin, who sat silent, staring straight
ahead. He felt a piercing sadness. Only time could heal them, and even then
they might never be the same.

They reached the bottom of the descent to the shore beneath the Golden Gate
Bridge. At least the weather was cooperating. Summer in San Francisco could
be gray and foggy, but today the sun was shining and the waters of the bay
sparkled. They parked the car and got out, stretching their stiff
limbs. The remnants of the fort that gave the place its name stood grave
and silent at the edge of the bay, and the bright span of the bridge soared
across the sky beyond.

"It sure is a nice day," Ward said. Jon nodded. He thought of the day he
and Boyd had come here with Matt. It had been one of his favorite places in
the city. It was at this place that Matt had requested his ashes be
scattered.

Dealing with bureaucracy hadn't been the only obstacle to carrying out
Matthew Mulroy's wishes. They weren't carrying all of his earthly remains
today. Some of his relatives, especially his in-laws, had been shocked at
Matt's instruction that he be cremated, assuming that he would want to be
united in death with his deceased wife. Very few people knew the painful
circumstances of Matt and Christine's last months together. She had
unwittingly learned of his relationships with other men just as she also
found out she was dying of cancer.

It had taken many phone calls and protracted negotiations with Matt's
family before they had agreed to release a portion of the ashes to
Boyd. The rest was now interred with Christine's remains in a cemetery in
North Carolina. Matt would be divided in death as he had been in life.

They were meeting Matt's son David and his wife today, the sole family
representatives at the ceremony. As they found a spot on the winding road
and parked Jon saw them getting out of a car some distance away.

They gathered together by the street, a stiff breeze blowing their clothes
and tousling their hair. David and his wife smiled, shading their eyes with
their hands as they faced into the sun.

"Dr. Evans? This is my wife, Melissa."

"Hello, Melissa. Jon Evans. Please call me Jon, though David won't." He
shook her hand. She was a pretty woman, petite and dark-haired. They spent
a few moments completing introductions.

David turned to Boyd. "Thank you for taking care of my father."

When he and Kevin had gotten out of the back seat, Jon had handed the box
of ashes to Boyd. Now he led the way as the six of them walked toward the
concrete pier that jutted into the water, where visitors could walk or
fish.

He saw a couple of heads turn as they passed. They made a curious
group. Out of respect, he had put on a dark suit, as had David. Melissa was
dressed in black. Kevin wore a sport coat and tie.

Boyd, on the other hand, had on black jeans and a tight-fitting black
T-shirt. Ward Childers' only concession to mourning was a black leather
vest over his T-shirt and jeans. Jon felt irritated at Ward for not looking
more formal. On the other hand, he hadn't known Matt, and Jon couldn't
blame him if he didn't particularly want to be here.

He took a long look at the two men, Boyd with head almost shaven, his skin
fair, his gold earring glinting in the sun; Ward, with his shock of dark
hair, his craggy face, his model's body. They were a striking pair--two
Castro hunks with their out-of-town friends. Matt would have appreciated
this funeral cortege. The thought made him smile and for a moment he felt
better.

Boyd stopped about halfway down the pier at the edge of the water.

"Is this far enough?"

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

"Good a place as any, I guess," Jon said.

Boyd put the box down on the concrete. He looked at them and cleared his
throat. "I guess I'm sort of in charge. It's weird, considering how long
I've been with Shanti, but I've never actually done this before."

He drew a small square of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "A couple
of months ago," Boyd said, "when Matt knew that it wouldn't be much longer,
he and I had a talk about how he wanted to be remembered."

Jon thought of his last conversation with Matt, the morning he had left. He
felt a pang of irrational jealousy. Why hadn't Matt talked about his wishes
with him?

"I'm glad we can all be here to carry out Matt's last wish, and I thank
you, Jon and Kevin, also David and Melissa, for coming so far.

"Matt wanted this poem to be read when his ashes were scattered. It's from
Walt Whitman. I think you'll understand why he chose it. As you know, he
loved to travel."

He cleared his throat and began to read.

"O we can wait no longer, we too take ship, O Soul..."

Boyd Wilkerson's voice continued to recite Whitman's exalted verses. Jon
looked across the bay. Sky and water blurred together into hazy shades of
blue in his vision.

"Sail forth--steer for the deep waters only, Reckless O soul, exploring, I
with thee, and thou with me, For we are bound where mariner has not yet
dared to go..."

His voice broke. Jon looked at him. Boyd's head was bowed, one hand over
his face, the other still clutching the paper. His shoulders were shaking
with silent weeping. Next to him, Melissa's face was buried in David's
shoulder, his arm around her.

He moved forward and laid a hand on Boyd's arm. "Do you want me to finish
it?"

Boyd nodded, unable to speak. Jon took the paper from him and found the
place where he had stopped. For a moment he was afraid his voice would not
obey him either. With an effort he kept a grip on his emotion and began to
read.

"...And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.  O my brave soul!  O
farther, farther sail!  O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas
of God?  O farther, farther, farther sail!"

When Jon finished they stood silent, the roar of the breeze and the lapping
of the waves in their ears, the cries of sea birds in the distance. His
head bowed, Jon heard a few muffled sobs around him. Finally, Boyd bent and
opened the box, inverting the lid and placing it on the concrete. He dipped
a trembling hand inside and drew out a fistful of ashes, already starting
to blow away in the breeze. Tears running down his cheeks, he flung them
into the wind, watching as they were borne away over the bay.

The rest of them in turn took a handful and tossed ashes over the water,
then began again. As Boyd threw for the second time the wind suddenly
gusted and blew the dust into his face. He coughed and sputtered, trying to
spit the gritty particles out. "Asshole," he said. They broke into ragged
laughter.

"That Matt, still giving me a hard time," Boyd said. To Jon's surprise Ward
produced a handkerchief from a rear pocket. He gave it to Boyd with a
comforting hug.

Jon bent and took his second handful. The box was almost empty. Instead of
flinging this one he opened his fingers and let the ashes trail away,
forming a long, gray-white plume, a contrail that lost itself in the
breeze.

"Goodbye, Matthew. Godspeed," he whispered.

Beside him Boyd picked up the box and looked inside. "Almost gone," he
said. He held the box over the water and turned it upside down.

"Rest in peace, friend." Boyd picked up the lid from the pier and closed
the box. He turned to the others. "Guess we're done. Thank you all."

They began to walk back. Boyd and Ward strode ahead, Ward's arm over the
other man's shoulder. They came to David and Melissa's car first. Good-byes
were said. Jon hugged Melissa, then turned to David and did the same.

"I remember," he told him, "When Matt came to visit you at Steelman, how
you always hugged him when you said goodbye. I thought that was so sweet."

David's eyes were moist, his expression composed. "He was my dad."

Melissa touched his arm. "Thank you, Dr. Evans."

Jon smiled. "Jon."

They watched the couple drive off, then began walking again. They were
still some distance away from Boyd's car when he felt a hand grasp his
arm. He turned. Kevin's gray, luminous eyes glistened as he smiled at
him. A flood tide of love and sadness rose inside Jon. He faced ahead again
and tried to keep walking, but could not.

He struggled to breathe through a throat choked with tears. One escaped and
ran down his cheek, then another. Unable to see, Jon turned toward
Kevin. He felt strong arms enfold his body as he gave up the struggle and
began to weep on his partner's shoulder.

Dimly he heard Kevin say something to the others about catching up. Then
Kevin said to him, "Shh. Let it go. It's okay." He clutched at his lover's
body like a drowning man, heedless of anyone who might be staring at them.

He did not know how long they remained motionless, embracing in the
street. At last he relaxed his grip as the storm that had shaken his body
began to dissipate. Jon fumbled in his jacket pocket and found a
handkerchief. He was always crying these days. He was a silly old queen,
silly and afraid--afraid of losing what was most precious to him.

He looked into Kevin's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Kevin shook his head. "Matt meant a great deal to you. Why shouldn't you
cry?"

Jon heaved a sigh. Sobs were still hiccuping from his chest. "It wasn't
just Matt I was crying for. It was us."

Something changed in Kevin's face. "Us?"

"Us. What we've become. Strangers."

"We're not strangers. I don't believe that."

Jon looked at the ground. "I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Jon, I'm the one who needs forgiveness."

He could barely get the words out. "I don't want to lose you."

Kevin's chin trembled. He tried to smile. "You won't. I love you."

"Thank God." He took Kevin's face in his hands and kissed his
forehead. They embraced again. Kevin spoke against Jon's chest.

"Jon, I have a request."

"Name it, it's yours."

"When we get back to Texas I want to have a commitment ceremony. It's about
damn time."

Jon looked at him. After a moment, he nodded. "Okay. It will take a little
while to organize, though."

"Oh, I know. Invitations, minister, rings, cake, the works. Out-of-town
relatives." A bit of Kevin's old wry self flashed in his grin. Jon's heart
leaped with joy.

"Let's shoot for fall. Shall we invite those two?" he asked, turning his
head toward Boyd's car.

"Hell, yes. Only Ward stays in a hotel this time."

"Agreed. He may be staying with Boyd by then anyway."

Kevin raised his eyebrows. "I thought something was going on with those
two. You noticed it too, huh?"

"They sure make a hot pair."

"They do. Let's show them how an old married couple does it." They walked
to Boyd's car arm in arm. After all these years, he and Kevin still had so
much to learn about each other. But the old love was still in their hearts,
and maybe it could even grow with time.

Their two companions were waiting in the front seat.

"You gentlemen all right?" Boyd asked, as Jon and Kevin climbed in the
back.

Laughter welled up in Jon's chest. He saw Ward's and Boyd's grave faces and
suppressed it. "Yeah, we'll be fine."

"You guys have been through hell," Ward said. "A lot of it on account of
us." In answer to Jon's surprised glance, he said, "When Kevin told me
about scattering Matt's ashes and wanting me to come, I called Boyd here. I
wanted to make sure it was all right. We ended up going out for coffee. As
you might have guessed, we shared a few other things."

He paused, then looked at both Jon and Kevin. "If I haven't said it before,
I want to say it now. I'm sorry about what happened."

"I'm sorry too," Boyd said. Silence fell, then Kevin spoke.

"You're not to blame. Jon and I are responsible for everything we
did. We've always given each other breathing room. We both just took a
little too much. Easy to do with guys like you."

He took Jon's hand. "We have a lot of work to do when we go home. But we're
staying together. And as far as we're concerned, you're both still our
friends. Right, Jon?"

"Right." Jon wondered whether Kevin was going to mention their plans, but
he didn't. He decided now wasn't the time. He leaned forward and kissed
Boyd on the cheek. He turned to Ward as if to do the same, but instead
grasped his head and spoke in a low voice into his ear.

"Be careful when you borrow other people's things." Ward's ears reddened
and he looked away. Jon smiled and patted his cheek, softening his
words. He turned to the others.

"It's been a long day. What do you say we drive back and drink to Matt's
memory?"

"Great idea." Boyd turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the
winding road that led up the hill and back to the city. Outside the car,
the green fields of the Presidio slipped past.

The peace that had descended on the four of them remained even after the
surrounding traffic grew heavy and noisy. As their car crawled toward the
MacArthur Tunnel, Kevin rested his head on Jon's shoulder. Jon put his arm
around his partner. In the front seat, Boyd reached for Ward's hand. Ward
looked at Boyd, then squeezed his hand in response.

They were silent, enveloped in the warmth of individual love and collective
friendship. After a while, Jon and Kevin drifted off to sleep, still
leaning on one another.

END