Charley's leg healed. Other than the two surgical scars on his shin, it was as good as new after the physical therapy to rebuild the muscles. As for his shoulder, he was lucky that the bullet hadn't been shot from a lower trajectory point. It would have shattered the clavicle, done much more damage to his neck and shoulder muscles, and left him with limited use of his arm.

Chess came around every couple of days to check on his boys, as he called us. Tom and his wife had us over to dinner and I, too, fell in love with his two kids. Their little boy looked like a miniature Tom and the little girl looked like her mom. They were all over their Uncle Charley. We heard nothing from Robert nor Gloria.

I had finished my manuscript soon after Gloria had been banned from the house, and had mailed it off to my editor who made his corrections and suggestions and sent it back. I'd made the changes he'd suggested right away and had sent it on to the publisher. Nearly a month had passed and I'd not yet received notice that it was being published.

I was antsy. Charley seemed eager to go back to work just to get away from my anxiety. He'd been assigned desk duty while he was going through the physical therapy. The first morning he went back on patrol I had a most difficult time to keep from begging him not to do it. Once, when he'd mentioned going back on patrol, I had asked him if he thought he should. He'd answered, "You don't understand, Jake, if I don't get back on the bike, if I don't go back to work patrolling the streets, then the ass holes win. Don't you see that?" With that response I couldn't bring myself to tell him how I felt about him going back. I hugged him, told him I loved him and wished him good luck.

After he left, I sat down at the kitchen table in front of my laptop. An image of him laying in the hospital bed with all those tubes connected to him, his upper body swathed in bandages, his elevated leg in a cast kept floating through my head. It left me incapable of writing a word. I sipped a cup of cold coffee and gazed out the window until I was stiff from sitting.

I shuffled out to the back yard and stood on the porch, stretching. Brain haze shrouded any logical thoughts, while 'what ifs' pummeled me. The plot of ground at the back of the yard, beyond the lawn, drew my attention. Charley had once told me that he intended to eventually plant a vegetable garden. Physical labor, that's what I needed. I rummaged in the garage and came up with a shovel, a rake and a hoe.

After laying out the perimeter of the area to be tilled, fourteen spades wide and thirty-two long, I started digging. It's hard work pushing the shovel into the packed dry earth, lifting the spade full of dirt, turning it over and dropping it back into place. After completing ten rows I looked at my red burning palms. I had three blisters on my right hand and two on my left. The blister at the base of my right forefinger had broken and the skin had torn. I cursed my stupidity. I'd been raised on a farm. I grew up doing this kind of labor. You'd think I'd have had enough sense to find and use gloves. I stopped and washed my hands. My palms stung from the hot water. After drying my hands, and rubbing some lotion on them, I put a band-aid on the broken blister.

There's nothing that will block my mind faster than staring at a blank screen, so I closed my eyes when I sat down at the kitchen table in front of my PC and started typing a stream of consciousness thoughts.

After fifteen minutes I stopped and read what I had written. There was a kernel of an idea for a new story in all the meanderings my mind had made. I transferred those three sentences to a new page and deleted the rest. I wondered how Charley was doing back on patrol. And then I stared at the sentences at the top of the screen for a while, pondering what meaning they might have held. Deleting them, I pushed away from the table, made a glass of iced tea, took the chilled glass and sat on the top step of the back porch admiring the work I had done. I checked the time on my watch. Two-thirty. Charley had been on duty three and a half hours. Five and a half more to go. This was driving me fucking nuts. I decided that a good run was what I needed.

An hour and a half later I was exhausted, but still feeling anxious. I decided to go over to the café and visit with Sal. I went into the bedroom, bathed and put on a shirt, Levi's, boots and leather jacket, then rolled my Chief out of the garage. I hadn't ridden in nearly two months. My butt felt at home on the leather seat. I pulled my helmet onto my head and started the engine. God, I loved that vibration in my balls. I rolled into the street and gunned it. The Indian reared up on the back wheel and I flew down the street smiling evilly at a little old lady who glared and shook her fist at me from the sidewalk. I'd really missed riding my old Chief.

At a red light, I sat gunning the engine, thrilling to the vibrations deep in my rectum and testicles. It brought back urges and feelings that Jim used to arouse in me and then sooth so well. I thought I had gotten over that need. My stomach roiled. I pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine. Hugging my arms to my chest, I rocked my body until the emotional and physical upheaval passed.

When I felt in control of my body and mind once more I headed on to the café. Sal immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. She stood back and looked at me. "You look like hell, Jake." I passed off the comment with a toss of my head. "Charley stopped by this morning," she said. "He looked so good in his motorcycle uniform."

I don't know what emotion she saw fleet across my face, but she put her hand to her mouth and gasped. "I'm sorry, Jake, I didn't realize."

"What?" I asked. She shook her head and turned to get me a cup of coffee as I sat at the counter. When she set the cup down she looked at me intently. "Does Charley know how you feel?"

"Feel about what?" I knew what she was talking about, but I didn't want to deal with it, so I was intentionally obtuse.

"Jake, this is Sal you're talking to. I've talked to enough policemen's wives to know what I'm seeing. Don't play games with me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sal." I said feeling obstinate and put upon.

She gave me a disappointed one sided grimace. "Okay, if that's the way you want it," she said and walked away from me.

I propped my forehead on my cupped hands and watched the steam rise from the coffee, feeling like a shit heel for treating a good friend like that. The slight pressure on my palms made me aware of how tender they were. I pictured Charley in his motorcycle uniform. God he's so hot and handsome. I imagined him fucking me while wearing that uniform. Why had he never attempted to fuck me? Why had we both been so satisfied just rubbing our cocks against each other and sucking each other?

I'd enjoyed fucking with Jim. Begged him to do it. Even when he'd had enough, I'd begged for more. Maybe, there in lay the crux of why I'd never asked Charley to do it to me. I associated fucking with Jim since he was the only one I'd ever done it with.

I didn't want to think about it, besides, Sal's baleful stare was getting to me. I glanced at her sitting on her stool behind the cash register. I stood and pulled a couple of dollar bills from my pocket, dropped them next to the untouched cup of coffee, grabbed my jacket and helmet and with a shake of my head, I aimed for the door.

"Jake?" Sal called out softly, stopping me as effectively as if she had yelled. I looked at her. "I'm here, if you need to talk," she said with a gentle smile.

"Thanks, Sal." I tried to smile, ducked my head and slouched out the door. I tied my helmet and jacket on the back of the seat, and then, for several minutes, just sat astraddle my bike. My head spun with the thoughts that whirled in my brain. I felt like I was being watched and turned to look at the window behind me. Through the glare on the glass, I could just make out Sal looking back at me. I kick started the engine, waved and roared off down the street.

With the wind whipping through my hair, momentarily blowing away all my problems, I rode without thought. Mile after mile shot by. A passing sign that read "University City 157 miles" caught my eye and brought me back to reality. Panicking, I hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the freeway. It was already late afternoon. How had I ridden so far and not been aware of it. Forcing myself to breath more slowly and feeling an urgent need to hear Charley's voice, I dug my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and speed dialed. It rang several times before I heard his voice. "Jake?" I heard him say. His voice was a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. I must have whimpered. "Jake? Are you alright?"

"Charley, I just had to hear you. Yes, yes, I'm okay."

Just then a big semi truck rumbled by. "What was that noise? Where are you? Jake? Talk to me, damn it."

"God, Charley it's so good to hear your voice. I'll be home as soon as I can get there."

"Where in hell are you, Jake?"

"I'm not sure. About a mile from hell's fury. I don't know."

"You're not making any sense."

"Charley, I'm headed back. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jake. You know that."

"I needed to hear you say it. Don't worry. I'll be home about..." I looked at my watch and calculated. "nine o'clock."

"Jake, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you when I get there." I broke the connection and stuck the phone back in my pocket, but before I could put my bike in gear the phone vibrated and rang. I thought it would be Charley, but it was my little buddy, Jason, back in University City.

I listened to the sadness in his voice as he told me that Pete had found himself a football jock and he was wandering the street with no where to go. I was torn, I really wanted to be there for the little guy, but the man in my life was waiting for me. I told Jason to go see the manager of my apartment and get a key. He could stay there until he found a place to live. I told him if he needed to talk, he could call me at any time. He sounded a little better when he disconnected. I called the apartment manager and told him to let Jason have a key and then I turned around and headed back to Kirksville.

Since Jason had gotten out of his last class a few minutes early, he went to meet up with Pete. He leaned against the wall waiting. After all the other students had emerged from the classroom and Pete hadn't, Jason went to the door to see what was holding him up. The moment he saw his lover enfolded in the big handsome football jock's arms he turned and fled. He ran to the car, jumped in and peeled out of the student parking lot. When he came to a stop in their driveway, he turned off the engine and sat staring out the windshield, the sight of Pete wrapped in Arlen's arms still branded on his brain..

He thought about how much he loved Pete, but if Pete wanted someone else........ 'Well, there was no way a puny little shit like me can compete with a big jock like Arlen.'

All of his life, as far back as he could remember, his father, a large man, had called him a puny little shit. Jason had come to eventually think of himself that way. The only thing big he'd been in his whole life was a disappointment to his father. Jason had been born premature at seven months. His mother's ill health hadn't let her carry him to term. She had been ill all his life and when he was thirteen she'd finally succumbed to the illness. His father always drank too much, although he wasn't physically abusive, he was very verbally so. Jason would never forget overhearing him tell his mother, just days before she died, that the only thing that she had ever accomplished in her life was bearing a useless little runt.

Between the verbal abuse and his diminutive size Jason had little competitiveness when it came to big people like Arlen. And if Pete wanted Arlen over him then the only option Jason had was to move on.

He moved his stuff out of the upstairs nest into the old master bedroom. He'd start looking for a new place to live tomorrow. That was the only way he could see for keeping what little dignity he had.

When Pete realized he was kissing Arlen back, he pushed away from him.

"Don't. This is wrong."

Arlen was breathing heavy. "Why? We both wanted it."

"Arlen, I really like you, but I'm committed. I'm in love with Jason."

Arlen's face blanked of all emotion. "That little twit?"

"He's my lover, my mate and he's not a twit."

Pete watched Arlen's expression darken. "You're a damned prickteaser, just like a girl" he snarled, and stomped off, leaving Pete in a state of shock.

Pete watched him disappear around the corner, sighed, picked up his book bag and headed to the parking lot to meet Jason. He was feeling guilty for giving in to the kiss with Arlen. He knew he'd have to confess to Jason before he could feel easy about it. When he got to the parking lot and saw the car missing a sense of dread poured over his body.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Jason.

"What?" Jason answered.

"Where are you, Babe?"

" What do you care?"

"Jason, what's wrong?"

"Like you don't know."

"Jason?"

"Look, if you need a ride ask that big football player you were kissing." Jason cut the connection.

Pete redialed, and listened to it ring until the automated voice announced that the party wasn't available. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the sidewalk. He knew that Jason sometimes was released from his last class a few minutes early, and that on those days he always met him outside his classroom. Today must have been one of those days, and Jason had obviously seen Arlen and him kissing.

He got up and started the cold trudge home. It was only three and a half blocks, but he didn't have a jacket and the weather was turning grey and blustery. By the time he got to the house, he was thoroughly chilled. The car was in the drive way so he knew Jason was home.

He entered the front door expecting to be met by a blast of heat, but was disappointed. It was only around sixty degrees inside. He turned up the thermostat and went looking for Jason. The kitchen was dark and there was no food heating. He sighed and trudged up the stairs figuring that was where Jason would be.

The first thing he noticed when he got to the top of the stairs was the open closet door and Jason's side was empty. He turned and scanned the room, Jason's drawers in the big mahogany chest were hanging open and empty. His heart dropped. The enlarged photo of the two of them lay on the floor. It was obvious that Jason had ground it under his heel. Pete dragged himself over to the bed and collapsed on it. Pulling the covers over himself, he stared at the ceiling trying to hold back the tears but, he lost the battle and let the sobs wrack his body.

In the old master bedroom, Jason sat in the big winged back arm chair with his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd not cried, but had pretty much worn himself out with his anger by the time he heard Pete open the front door. Jason listened to him trudge through the house into the kitchen, and then up the stairs to the big room that had been their nest.

After several minutes of not hearing any noise, he silently slid out of the big chair. In his stocking feet, Jason tiptoed into the hall and listened. He couldn't hear any sounds, so he entered the stairwell and crept up the stairs, stopping when he got up far enough to see Pete rolled in the bedding. The sobbing tore at his heart, but the image of him kissing Arlen hardened it. He went back to the downstairs bedroom, put on his shoes and a warm jacket and slipped out of the house.

Jason stood on the stoop and stared at the little white Honda. It had been his until this afternoon. Now he'd been displaced by that kiss. The car had been purchased with the money Dave had awarded Pete for saving his life. Everything was really Pete's. The house, the car, both of the computers. Everything that he'd thought of as theirs had been purchased with Pete's award money. What a fool he'd been. As he thought about it, Jason felt like a prostitute. Pete had paid for everything. Pete had bought him.

Jason stepped down to the sidewalk and plodded down the street with no destination in mind; he just had to get away. He ended up in front of Gates-Way Bookstore where Pete worked before the accident, staring vacantly through the window, not registering what he was seeing until his eyes touched on a book.

The author's name jumped off the cover at him. Jake Shipman. Jake had become like a big brother, the only big person that Jason felt would not look down on him. Jake had dropped out of sight. Jason hadn't seen him since Jim had stopped taking care of Pete. He had Jake's cell number in the phone's address book. He pulled the little jewel out of his pants pocket and found the number, dialed it and waited.

Jake answered just as Jason thought the automated voice would inform him the party he was calling wasn't available.

"Shipman."

"Jake?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

"I'm Jason."

"Hey buddy, what's wrong?"

"I need somebody to talk to. Can I come see you."

"You sound really down. I'm not in town, little buddy. But I'll talk to you all you want on this phone."

Jason sighed. "Pete and I broke up. I don't have any place to stay."

"He kicked you out of that big old house?"

"No. I could stay there, but it would be awful with him having his new boyfriend there."

"I can't imagine Pete with anyone but you."

"Yeah, well his new one is a big football jock."

"I can see how that would be most uncomfortable."

"I gave up my room in the dorm when Dave gave Pete that big house to live in."

"I tell you what, Jase. My apartment is just standing empty right now. Why don't you move in there until you get things straighten out?"

"You mean it, Jake?"

"Anything for my little buddy."

Jake gave Jason instructions on how to get a key. Without going back for any clothes, his books or anything Jason went directly to Jake's apartment. He stripped off his clothes crawled into Jake's big bed and dozed off and on, waking and wondering where and how Pete was. Some time during the night his cell phone rang, waking Jason only enough to mutter a curse before slipping back into an uneasy sleep.

The night settled around me with a sky full of stars, but no moon, leaving only the cone of light from my headlight in front of me and the lights on my gauges to light my world. I rode like a demon was chasing me. And truly it was. But I couldn't get away from it, for it was in my mind.

The garage door started raising when I pulled into Charley's driveway, he must have heard me coming. I rode right into the garage and Charley was on my case as the door closed. "God, you scared me. What's wrong? Where in hell have you been? " he demanded, as he squeezed the breath out of me, kissing my face and neck in between words.

"I love you, Charley," was all I could gasp as I clung to him. It was so good holding him and having him hold me. He let go and stepped back, giving me room to dismount.

Taking my face between his two hands he said, "I don't know what's wrong. Something's bothering you, we have to talk about it." He grabbed my hand, pulling me into the kitchen. "I thawed a container of stew. Hungry?"

"Starved," I said, pulling my jacket off and following him into the kitchen.

While he filled bowls with stew, and poured two tall glasses full of cold milk, I washed my hands. He'd also heated a loaf of hearty, crusty Italian bread. I grabbed a cube of butter, stuck it on a saucer and we sat down to eat.

After a few bites Charley paused and looked at me. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

My appetite disappeared. I laid down my spoon, and the piece of bread I had in my hand. I stared at the bowl of stew.

"If we don't talk about it, it will only fester," he told me.

Clearing my throat I looked into his beautiful eyes. "I lost it. I'd put off thinking about what I'd do or how I'd feel when you went back on patrol. I just lost it." I made a gesture of helplessness with my hands. He saw the band-aide and grabbed my hand. Noting how angry red the palm and finger pads were. He rubbed a finger over the blisters. "What in hell did you do?"

I shrugged and let out a chuckle. "I dug half the plot for your vegetable garden."

"Damn, Jake, there's a pair of leather gloves on the work bench in the garage."

"Who was thinking logically?" I was feeling foolish and depressed. I had kind of thought that Charley would be impressed. But it didn't even seem to register with him that I had dug up most of the plot for his vegetable garden. I didn't stop to consider that I hadn't really done it to impress him. I pushed away from the table, picked up my nearly full bowl and carried it to the sink.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" Charley asked.

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, put it back in the pot. It's too good to throw away."

I did as directed and rinsed out the bowl. Charley had gone back to eating. I sighed and sat back down.

"So where were you when you called?" he asked, not looking at me.

"The sign that stopped me said a hundred and fifty-seven miles to University City."

"Damn, Jake, that's nearly three hundred miles. It's only four hundred and thirty-two miles total, isn't it."

"Yeah." I agreed, wondering if he was just going to ignore what I'd said. I stared at the top of his head while he intently gathered the last bite of stew into his spoon and crammed it into his mouth.

"Charley?" He knew what I was asking. He deliberately finished chewing and swallowed. He lay his spoon next to the bowl, wiped his mouth, folded the napkin and placed it next to the spoon. He pushed back from the table and raised his eyes to meet mine. His voice was unemotional, soothing, quiet. "It's my job, Jake. I'm a motorcycle patrolman. What do you want me to do? Quit?" When I didn't answer, he said, "I will if you ask me to."

I felt like I was being patronized. I knew he wasn't, but that's how I felt. "No, Charley I couldn't ask that of you."

"So what do you suggest?"

I sighed. "I'll get used to it."

"I don't want you to have to get used to it, Jake. It's... just a job. Maybe a high profile job, but it's still just a job."

"I keep seeing you laying in that hospital bed with all those tubes and wires connected to you."

"It could as easily have been you. If you'd been there at that moment, that sniper could have put the bullet in you. It was just chance that it was me. I really don't think it was because I'm a cop. The police report and the psychiatric profile both indicate that he was just out to shoot somebody. It could have been anybody."

"I just feel so helpless. There's nothing I can do to protect you."

Charley started chuckling. I couldn't help but smile at his beautiful grin. "The Army grunt is wanting to protect the big bad-assed Marine who was trained to kill with his bare hands? That's a good one, Jake."

"Hey, my family's all Army. It was expected of me to join the Army. I wasn't a grunt. I was a corpsman."

Charley's grin disappeared. "Mine was too, I just thought the Marines could make me into the man everyone thought I was. But in the end... I was still gay, and in love with my best buddy." He turned inward, remembering.

Seeing him being introspective made me forget about my own problems. I knew he was still having a battle with himself accepting that he was gay. "You never even told him....., did you, Charley?"

"No, I didn't tell him."

"He was in love with you, too, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's the guy in the photo on the mantle, right?"

"Yeah."

"He was in love with you, Charley. It shows on his face."

"I never saw that. I guess we were both afraid to say anything."

"Where is he now? Do you know?"

Charley looked out the window behind where I was sitting. He stared into the black night. "A sniper got him while we were on patrol in Kuwait."

"God damn, I'm sorry Charlie."

"I guess that as a corpsman you saw a lot of blood and guts and death."

I didn't want to think about it. I still have nightmares about it. "Yeah, but I never lost a close buddy."

He looked intently at me. "I loved him, Jake, but I knew he wasn't the one. He wasn't my soul mate."

I grasped his hand as he reached for mine. " God! I love you, Charley." It's amazing how he can make my whole world light up with joy.

"And you.....you know I love you, Jake." My stomach rumbled. Charley laughed. "You'd better feed that growling creature or he might eat you from the inside out."

"Yeah, now I'm hungry."

"Sit still. I'll heat it up for you."

We'd touched on part of the problem, but still not knowing each other very well, we were both more comfortable skirting the issue for the moment. I still had to figure out how to tell him the rest.

Pete woke about nine that evening. The house was deathly quiet. He slid off the bed and stood up. He wandered down stairs wondering where Jason was. When he opened the master bedroom doors he saw that all of Jason's belongings had been moved down into that closet. His chest ached with regret. He felt he should be angry with Arlen, but all he really felt was disappointment in himself.

Wandering listlessly into the kitchen he wondered where Jason was. They didn't really have any close friends that Jason could run to. He pictured his little lover huddled in a coffee shop or a café and thought about going to look for him. God damn this cast. It was damned uncomfortable. Why did they have to suspend his arm out in front of his shoulder? Pete understood that it was to keep his shoulder and arm muscles immobile so the shattered clavicle could heal properly. Still, he couldn't drive his car with his arm in the air.

For a moment he relived the incident that had broken his arm and clavicle. Dave had stepped into the street, not noticing the car speeding towards him. If Pete had yelled a warning, he was sure Dave would have stopped and the car would have hit him head on. The only thing to do was to run out and knock Dave out of the path of the car and pray he, too, cleared it. He hadn't quite made it, but at least no one was killed.

He sighed in frustration as he stepped out the front door and saw Jason's car sitting in the driveway. Maybe Jason was in the house. He stepped back in and called out. Silence answered. Going into the hallway he bellowed, "Jason. Please answer me." Silence again.

He looked into each of the spare bedrooms and then shambled into the livingroom and crumpled into a chair. His eyes burned, and his head hurt. As he wondered what to do, he thought about Arlen. Maybe he'd gotten over being miffed by Pete's rejection. Maybe he'd help him look for Jason. He looked up his number in the student directory and called him.

"Arlen, it's Pete."

"What do you want? I'm studying."

"Jason saw us."

"Yeah? So what? It was just a kiss. What do you want me to do about it."

"He's gone."

"So? What's that to me?"

Pete thought a moment. "I thought you were my friend. You really had me fooled into believing you're more that a football jerk. I apologize for disturbing you." He disconnected feeling lower still. It dawned on him as he slumped back into the chair that Jason always carried his cell phone. He quickly dialed it and listened to it ring. He disconnected and redialed and listened to it ring some more. With every ring his spirits sank a little.

Pete's words stung, but they made Arlen think about what he had done. He was more than a football jock but he knew he was definitely being a jerk, and he knew that when Pete hadn't given in to his desires, he'd definitely acted like an ass, blaming Pete for his own feelings and actions. Although, Arlen had been feeling he wanted to know Pete in a more intimate way, he realized he wanted him as a friend even more. He decided an apology was in order, but his roommate had come in before he could call Pete back. He and his roommate had nothing in common except for playing football and sharing the dorm room. The thing to do, he decided, was to get up early, go over and apologize in person and volunteer to help Pete look for Jason.

Jason awoke before the dawn. Laying in the dark he collected his thoughts after remembering where he was and why he wasn't snuggled up to Pete. He felt bad about the way he'd reacted. He'd not given Pete any quarter for what had happened. He didn't know whether it had gone beyond just a kiss. He didn't know if Pete would even see that guy again.

'But then,' he thought, 'Pete hasn't even tried to find or contact me'. Jason hadn't stopped to consider he'd hidden away in Jake's apartment where Pete couldn't find him, and he'd forgotten about his cell phone ringing in the middle of the night.

He got up, washed his face and wandered into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he discovered that it was bare except for a bottle of Heinz Catsup and several cans of Bud. He searched the cabinets for coffee grounds and found a small bag of stale gourmet roast. After smelling it, he threw it in the trash. He'd just have to get a cup on the way home. If he left now he'd have a chance to talk to Pete before he left for class. He grabbed his jacket, locked the door and headed across the campus.

The morning was chilly. He pulled the collar up around his neck and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and headed toward a hot cup of brew. In the middle of the quad he heard someone call his name. He ducked his head and hurried on. A few moments later he heard two runners come up behind him. He spun around, ready to go down fighting.

"Jason, I thought that was you. What are you doing out so early. You and Pete should still be snuggled and cozy."

It was Dave Gates and his partner out for a morning jog. Jason relaxed. "I'm just out for a walk." He knew the answer was lame.

Dave could see from Jason's forlorn expression it was much more than that. "Is there trouble in paradise?" he asked.

Jason's shoulders sagged. He nodded and looked away.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jason shook his head.

"Well, you know where we live. If you need anything just come on up," Dave said.

"Keep your head up, Jase, Pete loves you. You know that," Joe said.

"Thanks, Guys." Jason gave them a semblance of a smile, turned and trudged on toward the coffee shop.

Once he got a large cup of good strong American coffee he headed the four blocks on home. As he rounded the corner he saw a red Mustang parked behind his car in the driveway. He froze.

Arlen was always an early riser. Usually at six in the morning he was tying his running shoes in preparation for a morning jog. This morning he dressed in regular clothes, hopped into his Mustang and headed over to Pete's. He'd called Pete to see if Jason had come back or if he'd found where he'd gone. Pete in a morning haze forgot for the moment what the last words that he and Arlen had yesterday, and just accepted the fact that he would soon be over to help search for Jason. Arlen figured he would do his apologizing when he knew Pete was fully awake.

Pete had fallen asleep in the big Barcalounger and had spent the night there. He'd had a miserable night, but he could see no reason to go to bed. It was bad enough sleeping with the damned cast, but without Jason in bed beside him, and the fact that there was no way to get the oversized sweat shirt off by himself, he could see no reason to go through the trouble.

Arlen's call had roused him enough to let him realize his bladder was near bursting. He tried to bring the chair upright. He hadn't realized Jason was always there to give the extra boost so he could get out of the chair. Alone, it was impossible to do with the weight of the cast. He tried rolling over the arm. That didn't work. And then he thought about the dynamics of what the position of his weight in the chair did. He slid his butt off the front edge of the seat which lowered the weight of his torso on the chair back. He was dumped onto the floor as the chair folded into an upright position. He sat there stunned for a minute and then struggled to turn over, get to his knees and stand up.

He went into the bathroom and shucked his sweat pants, shoes and socks. Filling the sink with warm water, he proceeded to wash himself. The washing he found pretty easy, but the drying wasn't; managing the large bath towel was difficult. It was much simpler to just stand with his legs spread and let his lover do it all for him.

For a moment he wondered if Arlen would do the things for him that Jason seemed to take such pleasure in. He shunned the thought. God, he missed his beautiful little guy with his bright sparkling blue eyes, and that shock of shiny raven black hair always hanging over his forehead. And his shy smile, Pete felt that he would shrivel and die if he couldn't get that smile back into his life.

He managed with little trouble to pull on a pair of sweat pants. He attempted to pull a sock onto his foot with one hand without falling over. How he hated this helplessness. Throwing the sock down in disgust, he slipped his feet into his trainers leaving them untied. He stood and looked in the mirror. An unkempt slob looked back at him. Grimacing in disgust he went back to the bathroom to comb his unwashed hair. He wished that he could rub the deodorant stick under his arm but of course that was impossible

Jim would do it all for him he knew, if he waited until eight, but Arlen would be there in a few minutes to pick him up to begin his search for Jason. Never in his life did Pete regret anything like he did that kiss yesterday. The stinging words that Arlen had slapped him with as he broke away from him stung again as he recalled the event.

The doorbell rang. Arlen was met with a hard glare when Pete opened the door. Arlen looked contrite. "Looks like you woke up." Pete continued to glare. "Pete, I apologize. It was a shitty jock attitude I pulled on you yesterday. And last night too. I really would like to be friends with you. I promise to behave myself and respect your relationship with Jason. Let me help you find him. It's the least I can do, since it's my fault he's gone. Please?"

Pete's expression relaxed. "Come on in, you big lunk."

For the next fifteen minutes Arlen grilled Pete about where Jason might have gone and got nowhere. He sat and thought a minute. "I've got an idea. Let's get the whole campus and neighborhood to look for him."

At that moment, Jason was standing down the street wondering what to do. He saw the front door open and Arlen step out carrying Pete's book bag. Pete followed and turned to lock the door, Jason panicked. He didn't want them to see him. Looking around, frantic to find a place to hide, he ducked and ran behind the neighbor's hedge and crouched down. He couldn't believe that Pete thought so little of him that he'd invite Arlen to spend the night. They didn't seem concerned that he might catch them. Jason felt totally wretched.

He watched Arlen open the Mustang's passenger door and help Pete settle into the seat. Tears filled Jason's eyes at the intimacy of the act. Not for a moment did he stop to consider that it was just the caring actions of a friend. As they drove away he stood and watched the car disappear around the corner. He shuffled into the house thoroughly depressed.

Into the car, he loaded the computer that Pete had bought for him. He took it because he couldn't do without one in his class work. Next all of his clothes, even though Pete's reward money had paid for some of them, they were personal enough that he didn't feel wrong in taking them. But when he came to the new leather Jacket, he looked at it and remembered how Pete had thought he looked so hot in it. He put it back on the rack. After gathering all of his personal items and school stuff and putting it in the car, he drove to Jake's apartment and carried it all inside.

He sat down at the dinette table and composed a note. He then took the car back over to the house and parked it in front of the garage. Dropping the house and car keys into the envelope with the note, he sealed it and slipped it through the mail slot in the front door, then trudged back toward Jake's.

As he approached the corner where the coffee shop stood he saw the red Mustang approaching a block up the street. He ducked into the coffee shop and went into the restroom and locked himself in the toilet stall. He sat on the toilet with his legs pulled up off the floor until they started going to sleep. 'Surely,' he thought, 'if they stopped for coffee they'd had time enough to get it, drink it and leave.' He left the restroom, bought a cup of coffee and started out the door. He stopped in shock.

Taped to the window next to the door was a poster with a photo of him, offering a reward to anyone who could give certifiable information on the whereabouts of Jason Warren. He hurried out of the shop and across the campus as fast as he could without running. He kept his head down, he didn't want to bring any attention to himself. Between the coffee shop and Jake's apartment he passed seven posters. No one seemed to notice him, but then most people never did.

Jim arrived at the house at eight as usual. The front door was locked and no one answered the door bell. He figured the boys must have early classes and went around to the back, took the hidden key from under a flower pot and let himself in. Since both boys were gone he fixed himself a pot of coffee, then went through the fridge and cupboard making a shopping list.

At this point in his employment, he felt like he was filling the roll of house keeper more than nurse, but the pay was very good and it was an easy job. He wasn't going to complain. He figured he'd straighten up the bedroom before going for the groceries. He wished he knew where Jake was. He missed the big lug and he enjoyed their occasional meetings for lunch. Today would be a good day for that. He sighed. He still couldn't admit to himself that he loved Jake.

Standing in the middle of the big upstairs bedroom he couldn't believe how it resembled a war zone. The bed obviously hadn't been slept in even though the covers were pulled up and piled on one side of the bed. Dresser drawers hung open, one was even pulled completely out and lay on its side. He walked over to pick it up and stepped on broken glass. That was when he noticed the framed photo laying on top of the dresser with its glass shattered.

After putting the drawer back into the dresser and closing them all, he walked into the closet and saw that all of Jason's clothes were gone. 'Figures,' he thought to himself. He'd learned to like Jason and even admired him for his spunky attitude, but the kid did have a tendency to run.

Jason hadn't eaten anything since noon the day before. Two cups of coffee weren't doing it. Fine's Market was the nearest, but it was back across campus. He was going to have to starve until dark. His hunger drove him back into the kitchen. He found, after thoroughly searching every cabinet, a single can of vegetable beef soup hidden inside a pot at the back of a cabinet. He opened it, poured it into a bowl and heated it in the microwave. Swearing he'd never tasted anything so delicious, he literally licked the bowl clean. He occupied the rest of his day with setting up his computer in Jake's office, hanging all his clothes in the guest bedroom and doing yesterday's homework.. He refused to think about Pete and what he might be doing.