Haunted eyes stared at Michael's from within the confines of the Humvee. "Why, Michael?" came the familiar plea. "I could be happy now, I'd be with Jimmy. Why'd you stop me?"

"Yeah, Michael," came a voice that had never sounded so sinister in the waking world. "It's your fault, you know. You just had to be with Ryan when you knew he was mine. And I let you take my place. Some friend you are!"

Michael refused to look at the newcomer, knowing full well what he'd see: hollow eyes, a torn, bloody uniform, and dark, seething anger.

"It should have been you. It was your place and you should have been there," said the dead corporal who had been his friend Jimmy in life.

"Yeah, Michael, it's not fair," Ryan chimed in. "We would still be together now if it weren't for you!" He was shouting now, something Ryan never did in real life.

"Wanna know what it felt like, Mikey? Do you? The heat, the pain? It should have been you, Michael, it should have been you!"

Suddenly, he was in a Humvee with three other soldiers. "Stop!" he screamed, but they just laughed and chatted, ignoring him. "Go back!" he yelled, futilely grabbing the steering wheel. The driver gave him a stern look and swatted his hand away before turning back to his conversation.

Frantically beating hands against the driver, powerless to stop the inevitable, he watched helplessly as the ill-fated men headed ignorantly towards their destiny. Knowing he couldn't save them, he scrabbled with clumsy fingers as his seat belt, only to find the buckled fused and unmoving. Heart hammering wildly in his chest, he struggled to free himself, knowing he had just seconds. Then it was to late. An explosion rocked the vehicle, burning heat engulfed him, and he screamed…..

Still screaming, Michael shot upright in his bed, gasping for breath and fighting off sweat-soaked sheets, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Oh God, not again! It was the same dream every time.

In the months since the attack he'd frequently questioned why he hadn't been in the Humvee that led the convoy with those he normally rode with. That day something had changed and Jimmy had been there instead.

When the fighting started with no warning the vehicle took a direct hit. Only Prescott had survived and it would be months before he'd walk again, if then. Jimmy had been sitting next to him where Michael normally sat. His funeral had displayed a closed coffin.

In the chaotic aftermath Michael was reported missing and the worst assumed. He'd survived with relatively mild injuries, only to face the angry accusations of his two friends on a nearly nightly basis. Then, once they'd had their say, he rode with his former comrades, unable to stop what he knew was coming. He always woke screaming.

He scoffed when someone had once told him that if you died in your dreams that you'd die in real life, wondering how anyone could actually know such a thing. Now he worried that, not only was it true, but that it was his destiny.

A quick glance at the clock showed it was 7:30 a.m. He'd never get back to sleep, so he rose and started his day on just three hours sleep.

It was noon before he shook off enough of his terror to focus on work.

* * *

"Hey, Michael; ready for some pizza?"

Four days of brooding had left Michael tired and depressed, so it was with great surprise that he answered the unexpected knock to find the star of his waking thoughts casually leaned against his doorframe. A black, fading T-shirt displayed a perfect upper body, and faded blue jeans, worn through in strategic places, cradled strong thighs.

Blood rushed from his head and down to his groin, the depletion of resources leaving him speechless. Finally, he managed to stutter, "How'd you get in?"

The smile disappeared as Jay pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave. "I knew I should have called. If I've come at a bad time…"

"No!" Michael yelled, in shock that the object of his fantasies had suddenly materialized on his doorstep. "It's not that," he blurted, "it's just that I thought Mom had left already."

Now that Jay was finally in his apartment Michael wasn't about to let him leave. He'd been trying to get him there so they could talk, but with Jay's grueling school schedule and his own hiding from the world, it just hadn't happened yet. Now Jay had shown up on his doorstep like a gift. Like hell he was getting away!

Jay smiled and resumed his relaxed pose. "Oh, yeah. I caught her just as she was leaving. So?" he asked, staring at Michael expectantly. "Pizza?"

"Sure," he replied, "let me get my wallet."

A quick glance into the bedroom mirror ensured he was presentable, but he traded his stained T-shirt for a clean one, grabbing his wallet from the night stand before hurrying back to the living room. After carefully locking the door he followed Jay through the store and out into the early evening.

Five minutes later they were back in the apartment waiting for the delivery driver.

"I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know that would happen." Michael sat on the couch, dejectedly staring at the floor. He'd gamely agreed to walk the few blocks to the restaurant instead of driving, only making it two blocks before a backfiring car set off a panic attack.

Torn between shame that Jay had seen his meltdown and gratitude that he'd been there, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't have made it back to his apartment without help. Jay had wrapped a calming arm around him and led him back to the bookstore, muttering, "Something he ate," to a curious passer-by. Then, taking the key from Michael's trembling fingers, he'd unlocked the door and brought him inside, shutting the terrifying world outside.

"Shhh... Don't worry about it." Jay said as he handed him a paper bag. "Just breathe into that. That's it, slow and steady." A warm hand rubbed soothing circles against his back, the heat radiating from the man's body as comforting as his words. When he was finally able to breath normally again, Jay's cell phone rang. Jay answered it, speaking quietly before flipping the gadget shut. "I'll be right back," he said, heading for the door.

Michael jerked his head up, eyes widening in panic.

"Listen to me, Michael," Jay said quietly, "I'm just going downstairs to get the pizza; I promise I'll be right back. I'm not going to leave you. I'll keep the door open and come back up in a minute, okay?"

Michael sighed and nodded, amazed that Jay had stuck around this long. He'd expected polite excuses the moment they'd gotten back to the apartment, but instead Jay had calmly and efficiently dealt with the situation. He'd have made one hell of a medic.

A few moments later Jay returned, depositing his fragrant burden on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen and returning with paper plates and cans of root beer. Michael watched him assume the role of host, serving up pizza and root beer, and setting their plates on opposite sides of the coffee table.

"You sure seem to know your way around my apartment," Michael said.

"I helped your mother paint and get it ready for you," Jay replied.

"Oh." Of course his mother would have needed help getting the place ready, but he never imagined it was Jay that provided it. "Funny, she never mentioned it. It seems strange since she talks so much about you." Michael flushed, realizing he'd just confessed that he and his mom had been discussing gossiping.

Jay just grinned. "Your mom's a cool lady, although she does keep trying to fix me up. I know she means well, but…"

They both laughed, the stress easing. "That sounds like her." As they ate it occurred to Michael how little he knew of Jay's family "What's your mom like?" he asked

"Imagine a taller, chunkier, Catholic version of your mom. She's a bit older, but she's pretty cool, too. She and Dad have been married thirty years." He took another bite of pizza, chewed thoughtfully, and then asked, "Hey, wanna see them?"

"Sure," Michael agreed, reaching over to grasp the thick wallet Jay passed over. Flipping it open explained its width, for inside were about twenty pictures. The first one was a group photo and Michael smiled at the image of a younger Jay that hadn't yet grown into his ears, surrounded by what was obviously his family, judging from the resemblance. Michael counted six sisters, all noticeably younger than Jay.

"Hey," he gasped in surprise, "your mom's a blonde!"

"Yeah, she's Irish," Jay explained, smiling fondly. "She met my dad when her parents were on vacation in Galveston. They went home to Cleveland, she stayed."

"Dang! How many pictures do you have in here?" Michael asked, flipping through one picture after another.

"That's nothing." Jay waved his hand dismissively. "You should see my albums back in my room."

"You've got that many pictures?"

To that Jay answered softly, "Photography is one of my hobbies. I like having pictures around of those I love."

Michael sat the wallet down and turned his attention back to his pizza. His fingers still trembled as he ate, but either Jay didn't notice or he prudently chose not to comment. Coming down from an attack usually took awhile if accomplished without the help of meds. They finished their meal while watching the evening news, Michael occasionally asking questions about Jay's family.

Suddenly Jay asked, "Can I ask you something that's none of my business?"

Warily Michael nodded.

"Where did you go last Thursday? You said you had something to do, but you never said what." Before Michael could respond Jay added, "Sorry, I was being nosy. You don't have to answer that, but…you know you can talk to me, right? I've been told I'm a good listener. I'm the only boy in a family of girls; trust me, I can listen with the best of them." Jay flashed a disarming grin.

Well, Jay hadn't run screaming yet, so Michael answered honestly, "I had an appointment with my counselor."

Jay appeared thoughtful, then said, "Ahhh… well I'm glad, then."

Of all the possible responses, that wasn't one he expected. "Huh?" Michael asked.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone. I really hated seeing you like that night at the party."

"Oh." Maybe it was time to have that talk he'd been hoping for.

Jay leaned across the coffee table and explained, "I told you that my cousin was going through something similar. Well, he tried to go it alone, wound up drinking too much. It didn't help. All it got him was a couple of arrests for drunk driving before he finally pulled his shit together and got some help."

"Well, that's not likely to happen," Michael replied bitterly. "Can't get pulled over if I can't fucking leave the house!"

Jay helped himself to another slice of pizza. "Well, look at it this way: you live here and work downstairs, so that allows you time to deal with it. I can't lie and say I know what you're going through, but I'm here and will do whatever I can to help." He leaned forward, his warm brown eyes locking with Michael's clear blue ones.

Michael closed the distance, brushing his lips lightly across Jay's. "I want to apologize for the other night," he whispered softly.

Jay stood and moved around the table, easing down on the couch and wrapping a comforting arm around Michael's shoulders. "There's no need to," he said. With a bright smile he added, "I kind of like how it turned out, myself."

Michael opened his mouth and inserted his foot. "I'm embarrassed about how it ended."

Jay was on the opposite end of the couch before Michael had seen him move. "Oh," he said.

"No, I don't mean it that way!" Michael started to panic, knowing what he wanted to say but unable to form the proper words. His hand scrabbled in his hair in frustration. "I, uh…"

Out of nowhere the gorgeous smile reappeared. "You are flat adorable when you're flustered, you know that?"

"I just have a hard time saying the right thing sometimes," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about saying the right things; just say what you feel. I promise that if I don't understand I'll give you a chance to explain." Jay folded his arms over his chest and relaxed against the arm of the couch, obviously waiting.

"I kinda regret leaving you hanging like I did," Michael said.

"Is that it? You're not embarrassed by the rest?"

"Oh, hell no!" he replied emphatically, shaking his head in disbelief at his own candor. "And I've gone over it in my head since that night. Many, many, many times."

Jay smiled wickedly. "Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Inching his way back down the couch, Jay's warm lips brushed gently over Michael's cheek, then worked their way back to his ear. "Do you think you might like to do it again?" he whispered.

"Right now?" Michael reached up and smacked himself on the forehead, causing Jay to laugh. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded!"

"Oh, Michael, you poor thing. When you get nervous you really are no good with words, are you?"

"Well, I'm just not very good at communication, especially when it's important," he confessed.

"As long as I know what's going on maybe I can help you. I've been told I'm good with words. Two languages' worth," Jay added with a grin.

"But the answer to your question is, yes, I would like to do it again, but next time you get to come, too."

Jay hand idly stroked Michael's shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's a big step for you, right? Didn't you say that until the other night you'd never kissed a man?" Jay asked.

"Well, that's true, but I have kinda played before."

"Oh, really?"

"Only once."

"Someone special?"

"Well, it was a friend and it was more about comfort and reassurance than it was about love or sex."

"Is it one of those things you don't want to talk about?"

"No, but I don't want to talk about it now. Now is for me and you."

Jay snorted and commented, "And you say you aren't good with words."

Michael shrugged and replied, "Well, you know what they say, 'Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every now and then.'"

Their laughter killed any remaining tension. "So by saying only once, you meant…"

"Only that I'm not very experienced but, yes, I have tried things with a guy before."

"And?" Jay prompted, the word holding no jealousy or condemnation, just curiosity.

"Well, it was good, but it was nothing compared to that night with you," he answered truthfully.

"Ahh…another good answer." Seeing those dark eyes coming closer, Michael parted his lips, admitting Jay's questing tongue. Slowly it curled into his mouth. Rather than a duel, it was a slow exploration. A tingling began low in his belly as warm hands slid beneath his shirt, caressing his bare chest.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so aroused. With girls he'd been expected to be the aggressor, but he found it refreshing to just let go, relax, and let Jay call the shots. Which he did - expertly.

Slowly his shirt was eased up his body, the intimate contact with his mouth broken just long enough for Jay to remove it and toss it to the floor. Then the kiss was resumed -with a vengeance. Long fingers caressed his stomach, following the patchy treasure trail down his abdomen. Fire shot straight down to his hardening cock and his hips bucked, seeking more contact.

Jay grasped Michael's shoulders, easing him down onto his back, a well-placed knee gently nudging his legs apart. Jay settled between them, grasping the end of his own shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor.

"I want to look at you," Michael said.

Jay sat back on his heels, a coy smile playing over his lips.

Michael's eyes wandered over the fantastic body he'd fantasized about, memorizing every contour and curve. Dark, curly hair grew sparsely across light brown skin, between firm pecs and down as far could be seen; an interesting treasure trail disappearing beneath Jay's faded denim jeans.

When he raised his eyes he saw the question on his lover's face - do you like what you see? - and he replied by crushing his mouth to one dusky nipple, loving the way it hardened against his tongue.

Jay eased down, pressing their hard cocks together. "Oh, God I want you," he mumbled against Michael's lips.

They reached for each other's jeans, fumbling in their eagerness but still making quick work of the button and zipper closures, before plunging their hands into a pair of briefs in one case, and a pair of loose fitting boxers in the other. Michael had only ever touched two cocks before in his life: his and Ryan's, and both were circumcised. The novelty of extra skin to play with was highly arousing. Jay's cock was just as long and thick as he'd imagined.

When the initial exploration was satisfied, he worked Jay in earnest, using the well-practiced motions he'd privately employed since his early teens.

Moist heat found his neck as Jay seemed to instinctively find that special spot that made his toes curl. That hot mouth worked over his skin, sucking, licking, and lightly biting; he knew it would leave a mark but he was finding it hard to give a damn.

Jay expertly stroked his hardened flesh while Michael pumped his hips, working himself into the tight grasp, matching his movements and rhythm with his partner's. Far too soon he felt his balls drawing up, tingling at the base. Frantically he increased his pace, reaching, reaching, grasping….

"Ahhh…" Head thrown back, eyes closed tightly, he let go, filling Jay's hand with the evidence of his passion. And though he may have lacked experience, Jay's own orgasm, following on the heels of his own, meant he'd done something right.

He opened his eyes and watched the sheer joy of the moment etched on his lover's face. Eyes closed, lips parted, Jay moaned and panted, then screamed his release, "Miiiiiccchhhaaaaaaeel!" Warmth filled his clenched fist and he milked Jay's cock with sure, steady strokes.

They collapsed against each other, panting and gasping for breath. Once more mouth met mouth. This time the kiss was slow and unhurried, full of sated bliss. Michael found his discarded shirt and wiped them both down before tossing it back to the floor.

"Stay the night?" he asked.