---

"What the hell is going on here?" Dillon's voice cut through the stillness of the room, distracting Ash and giving Jamie the advantage he needed. Jamie raised his knee and planted it right where Ash least wanted to be hit. He clutched his nuts, and down he went.

Dillon crossed the room in an instant and hauled Ash to his feet. He had his fist cocked and ready to put Ash's lights out when Jamie hollered, "Don't do it, Dillon. He's drunk. I wouldn't have kneed him if he hadn't been trying to . . . well, you know."

"He's drunk?"

"Yeah. Can't you smell it?" Even from where Jamie stood, the stale smell of whisky filled the whole room.

Dillon nodded and wrinkled his nose. He dropped Ash, who fell to the floor in a heap, holding his balls and moaning. Dillon said, "Well, shit. What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?"

"I don't think you're allowed to say 'shit' in church. Isn't it like a law or something?"

"James, I think even God would agree that 'shit' is the right word to use in this case. The service is supposed to start in about fifteen minutes, and, as bad as I hate to say it, we can't just leave him here like this."

Damn. Dillon was right. As much as Jamie would like to leave Ash in a miserable pile for trying to force Jamie into giving him a blow job, the fact remained that he couldn't. Jamie was pretty sure the alcohol had motivated the advance, anyway. Ash was an honor student, as well as a Plunkett High football star. He'd never been in any real fights that Jamie knew of, and even though Ash wasn't exactly a champion for gay rights, he'd never known him to be a basher, either. He wasn't even sure what Ash was doing here. He barely knew Ben. Jamie was just about to try his luck at getting an answer from Ash, who'd progressed from moaning to a slight mewling sound, when the door swung open, and Chad Minton came into the room. He took one look at Ash and whirled on Dillon. "What the hell did you faggots do to him?"

Dillon's face turned red, and Jamie could tell that he was just about to blast Chad, when Ash spoke up, his voice thick and slurred. "They didn't do anything to me, man. It was my own fault. We should never have come here, and if my damned father hadn't made me pay my 'respects to a fallen classmate,' I wouldn't be here now. Just help me up, and we'll get outta here."

Chad went to Ash's aid, even as he said, "What will your dad say if the two of us ditch before the service even starts?"

"Like he's gonna know. He and stepmother number five left for Europe about two hours ago. Second honeymoon, they called it. Funny, seeing as how they've only been married for three months." He stumbled to his feet with Chad's help. They were almost to the door, when Ash turned back and said, "James?"

"Yeah?"

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again before any sound came out. Jamie figured he was about to apologize, but the words must have stuck in his throat, because all he got out was a squeaky, "Never mind," before Chad helped him out the door.

Once they were gone, Dillon rushed over to Jamie, putting his hands on Jamie's shoulders and looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. He didn't hurt me."

"Not for lack of trying. You wanna tell me what just happened?"

"Pretty much what it looked like. I came in here to pray for Ben, and the next thing I knew Ash was in my face, demanding service, so to speak. I said no, you came in, and the rest is history."

Dillon removed his hands and balled up his fists. "Drunk or not, I should have kicked his ass for touching you in the first place."

That hit Jamie the wrong way. So what if he was smaller than most guys, or more reserved? That didn't mean he was helpless. Did Dillon think that because Jamie had let Dillon take advantage of him in the past, that Jamie was the girl in their relationship? The little woman, in need of protection? Having Dillon try to fight his battles for him played upon all of Jamie's worst fears and insecurities, fear that Dillon saw him as something less than an equal. That, plus the stress of saying goodbye to Ben and being pawed in the middle of church, caused Jamie to snap.

"Why should you have kicked his ass, Dillon? Because you believe I'm not capable of taking care of myself? You think I'm some puss who needs his big, bad boyfriend to play bodyguard?"

Dillon's face turned white as death, and if he hadn't been so upset, Jamie might have felt guilty. Dillon's voice was horse as he stammered out, "No! I never thought of you that way. I wouldn't . . . James, it's not like that."

"Then how is it, Dillon? You tell me."

Dillon might have answered if Megan hadn't stuck her head into the still open doorway. "The service is about to start, guys. Pastor Oakley just stepped onto the platform."

Dillon nodded and then cast Jamie one last, pleading look before following Megan out the door. Jamie steeled himself for what was coming, the argument with Dillon temporarily cast aside in the face of Ben's memorial. This was it. He took a deep breath and followed them.

Jamie, Dillon, and Megan sat together, three rows from the front. Aunt Sadie was sitting with the Nash family, one row back. The place was packed, from the first pew down front to the balcony above. Jamie was almost willing to bet that half the people there hadn't even known Ben. Hearse chasers, looking for a good show.

The First Christian Church was beautiful, a mixture of late nineteenth century architecture and modern restoration done in period style. The things that set the place apart, though, were the cathedral ceilings and the massive stained glass windows dominating the east-facing wall, windows that seemed delicate despite their size. Too bad Jamie couldn't soak himself in the beauty. He only saw what was missing: his best friend. He noticed a blown up picture of Ben--grainy and having been lifted from the yearbook--placed on the raised stage, and several tasteful flower arrangements clustered around the altar. Since Ben had been cremated, there was no casket, and Nora had wisely chosen not to showcase the urn holding Ben's ashes. Jamie thanked heaven for small favors. He looked around for Nora, but couldn't see her in the throng of designer-clad spectators. Nothing like a memorial to bring out the best in folks--or their wardrobes.

Walter Oakley approached the pulpit, a pleasant looking man, with gray, thinning hair, and round, wire-framed glasses. He'd seemed nice enough when he'd greeted Jamie in the hallway, but, even so, Jamie dreaded what he was about to hear. He expected some long winded diatribe about how everything happened for a reason and how they shouldn't grieve for Ben because he was in a better place. Jamie, though, was in for a surprise.

Oakley adjusted his glasses and looked out upon the crowd. "Normally, I begin each funeral or memorial service with a prayer, and then I go into a heartfelt sermon about celebrating a life well lived and rejoicing because a soul has been reunited with his Lord. Then again, most funerals I preside over are those of older folks, such as myself, who've had a chance to live, to taste the world and all its wonders. There is no way I can, in good conscience, tell you that I celebrate the passing of an eighteen-year-old boy whose life hasn't even started."

"Benjamin Lewis left this earth a babe, another victim of a senseless tragedy that defies all logic and reason. Though Ben was not a personal friend of mine, time and again I've seen young ones like him fall, cast down before ever really having had a chance to rise. At times like these, I wish I had a direct line to God. I'd ask Him why Ben Lewis was taken, why he experienced so little joy in his young life, only to have what little happiness he'd managed to find so cruelly snatched away." Oakley removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Since I can't do that, I, like you, am asked to trust God, to believe that the answers will someday be made clear to us. I do believe that, but to those left behind, there is often little solace to be found in such beliefs." Oakley replaced the wire frames on his nose and again scanned the crowd. "There is a certain peace to be found in our Creator, but it is often hard won in the face of tragedy. As He prepared His disciples for the Crucifixion and the trials to follow afterwards, Jesus spoke of such a peace--as we are told in the thirty-third verse of the sixteenth chapter of John--when he said, "These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.'"

Oakley closed the prayer book he'd earlier placed upon the lectern and said, "Jesus overcame the world, and through him, so may we. That is not to suggest that the road between the here and the hereafter will be a smooth one. In fact, we are assured of just the opposite. My prayer now is not for Ben, who's reached the end of his journey among us, but for his family and friends, those left behind and trying to find order in chaos. Would you bow your heads?"

Jamie closed his eyes, and though he heard the words of Oakley's prayer, he couldn't wrap his mind around them. He liked the fact that Pastor Oakley hadn't tried to explain away Ben's death with some tired old speech, but he still wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel or what he was supposed to do to obtain this closure everyone kept going on about. Jamie didn't even realize the prayer was finished until he saw movement from the corner of his eye and noticed folks were raising their heads. He did the same, the whole time wondering what was next.

Oakley said his amens and went straight to the next part. Jamie was grateful to the man for not dragging it out "I think now would be a good time to hear from those who knew and loved Ben. If any of you would like to say a few words on his behalf, please, step forward at this time."

Nora Slater came up first. Jamie always marveled at what a striking figure Ben's foster mother made, with her long brown hair and her olive complexion. At five-eleven, she reminded Jamie of a willow tree, towering over most women--and many men. Even so, she carried her slender frame with a subtle grace that emphasized her beauty. Though she was not a day older than forty, Nora was the only stable adult influence Ben had ever known. Too bad she hadn't gotten him sixteen years sooner.

Nora approached the lectern and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her elegant black skirt suit. Her hazel eyes scanned the crowd, finding Jamie almost immediately. They exchanged a look-- a subtle acknowledgement of the bond they shared--before Nora said, "I'd like to thank all of you for coming. I'm overwhelmed by the turn out. I hope everyone here knew Ben, or at least had the chance to know him." Her voice turned thick, but she held it together. "If you didn't know him, you'd probably think he was a tough guy, one of those kids who gave a lot more crap than he took." She managed a weak smile. "That was true, but there was another side to Ben, a softer side. If you were one of the lucky few to be loved by Ben," again she looked to Jamie, "he would have moved Heaven and earth to see you happy. That's the Ben, the loving Ben, that I say goodbye to today." Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "That's the boy I grieve, the boy I was proud to call my son." Nora said another quick thank-you, nodded to Walter Oakley, and returned to her seat.

Next up were two girls Jamie recognized from school, both with teary eyes and padded bras. Each one gave a stirring account of what a tragedy Ben's death was and how deeply he would be missed. Jamie was proud of himself for not gagging.

When the second girl finished her act, there was an awkward pause while Oakley waited for the next speaker to come forward. Dillon leaned close to Jamie and whispered, "You gonna go up there?"

Jamie shook his head. He couldn't do it. He'd never make it through without loosing it. Dillon seemed to understand. He gave Jamie's knee a light squeeze before pulling back his hand.

Oakley was just before reclaiming the pulpit when Dan Morgan stepped on the stage. "If you don't mind, Pastor, I have a few words I want to say."

Pastor Oakley moved back to his chair as Morgan took his place at the podium. His Italian suit looked to be hand cut, and as usual, every hair on his head was in order. He stood before the memorial crowd like a politician addressing potential voters. "We're here today to mourn the passing of one of our own, a young man cut down in the prime of his life. Ben Lewis was perched on the cusp of manhood, only to be plucked from our midst by an almost unfathomable tragedy. We come here today to make sense of the senseless, to infuse logic into the illogical. Though as Mr. Oakley so deftly pointed out, such a happening is difficult to understand, I think I may be able to put Ben's death into a perspective you can all relate to." Morgan smiled again, but this time Jamie could have sworn he saw something behind Morgan's grin, some malicious intent buried beneath the flashing white teeth and the prep school charm.

Morgan placed both hands on the lectern. "Just like Mr. Oakley, I put great store in the principles laid out for us in the Bible. Now, I'm not up on chapter and verse, but I think I can make my point just the same. To paraphrase, 'Whatever a man reaps, that's what he'll sow.' You ask why Ben Lewis had to die. I'll tell you why. The evil that he did in life finally caught up to him. Ben Lewis sowed seeds of sin and strife. How ironic, then, that Ben's life should be taken by a drunkard, a man whose own life has been just as fruitless and violent as Ben's."

Jamie heard Walter Oakley clear his throat as Nora gasped and someone else cursed, but Morgan was far from finished. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and then continued.

"Now, lest you take my word for it," he shook out the paper, "I have here a list of Ben Lewis's indiscretions. And these are just the ones we know about." Holding the document in front of himself like a banner, Morgan said, "Benjamin Lewis was a rap-sheet with legs. Between the ages of eleven and fifteen alone, Ben was arrested four times for solicitation, had five petty theft charges, got sent to juvenile hall three times for misdemeanor assault, and was implicated in two separate drug busts. Ben lived in twelve different foster homes--mainly because he was so unruly his foster parents couldn't control him--and did over six months in two different juvenile detention facilities. Perhaps if those 'kiddy jails' had kept him until he turned eighteen, he'd still be alive. For some reason, he always seemed to get out early for good behavior." Morgan snorted. "Good behavior was something Ben Lewis knew nothing about. Even after he ran away from his last foster home and Nora Slater so graciously took him in, Ben couldn't seem to get his act together. I know he was arrested several times for crimes ranging from shoplifting to drug possession." Morgan paused for effect. "The question then becomes, should we really be grieving for Ben Lewis? I say, he got what he deserved."

"And I say you're full of shit, Morgan." Brandon Nash stepped up on stage and gave Oakley an apologetic glance. "Sorry about that, Pastor, but only a craven coward talks trash about a dead man in front of his loved ones." Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but Brandon beat him to the punch. "Sit down, Morgan. You've had your turn. You're lucky as hell I can't think of anything to charge you with for exposing Ben Lewis's juvenile record. If I can find something, though, you bet your ass I will."

That shut Morgan up and propelled him back to his seat. Brandon took the pulpit, his eyes flashing. For some reason, Brandon's anger soothed Jamie. At least someone besides Nora and himself was outraged over Morgan's comments. Jamie had no idea the amount of comfort and resolution Brandon's next words were gonna bring.

Brandon spoke with obvious reluctance. "I'm not much of a public speaker. I leave all that diplomacy crap to my better half. God knows how I got elected sheriff. It certainly wasn't for my people skills. But the fact is, I did get elected, and that put me in a unique position where Ben Lewis was concerned." He shifted so that his hip was propped against the podium in typical Brandon Nash style. "There are two kinds of arrestees: the kind that clam up on you and go all quiet, and the kind who get made as Hel--um, heck, and raise the roof. Ben was in the second category. I got to see the worst of him, the angry, belligerent side. He was brought in on a variety of charges--all misdemeanors, I might add--and never once came in without setting the whole station on its ear. Even so, I can honestly say that I admired Ben Lewis. I may not have agreed with his views on the differences between right and wrong, but I admired the person he was inside, apart from that tough guy routine of his."

Brandon's blue eyes scanned the room. He settled on Jamie for just a second before moving on. "As Morgan so kindly pointed out, Ben Lewis didn't always make the smartest choices, but no one really knows how much of that Ben did to survive. And survive he did. That's where my admiration for Ben comes in. He wasn't one of those people that sat down and gave up just because life dealt him a lousy hand. Was he bitter? Yeah, a little bit. But he didn't let that bitterness or fear keep him from living a full life. He lived--and loved, from what I hear-- like there was no tomorrow." Again, Brandon's eyes settled on Jamie. "I can't say for sure, but I believe if Ben Lewis were here with us right now, he'd tell those he cared about to do the same thing, to let go of what's holding them back and move forward." With that last bit of advice, Brandon nodded to Pastor Oakley and exited the stage.

Pastor Oakley wasn't about to give Morgan a chance to say anything else. The minute Brandon relinquished the pulpit, Oakley reclaimed it, thanked everyone for coming, and ended the service. It took Jamie a full minute to realize people were starting to stand. He was still locked under the spell of Brandon's words. They shamed him, made him realize he'd been hiding behind Ben, using his death as an excuse not to face his feelings for Dillon. The question now was, did he have the courage to change all that?

Dillon peered down at Jamie from where he was standing. "James? You okay?"

"Jamie."

"Huh?"

Jamie looked up at him, blue eyes into green. "Jamie. My friends and family call me Jamie." He lowered his voice for Dillon's ears only. "I always loved the way you said my name."

Dillon's smile was the best thing Jamie had seen in a long time. "Jamie, are you ready?" He said "Jamie" like a caress.

Jamie stood up and slipped his hand into Dillon's. "I'm ready." And he was ready. Ready for everything he'd been denying them both.

* * *

Dillon held on to Jamie's hand like a lifeline, afraid to let go, scarcely daring to believe that Jamie's new-found acceptance of him was real. He wanted to get Jamie alone, to talk to him, to find out what he was thinking. Dillon led him through the sanctuary, stopping just long enough to say goodbye to Megan and to tell Jamie's Aunt Sadie that they were leaving. Jamie had accepted Dillon's offer of a ride home--a good sign--but Dillon needed more. He needed to know what was going on in Jamie's head. They'd almost made it to the front doors of the church when they ran into Nora.

Her eyes were red, and her face was pinched, but Dillon could tell that the smile she gave Jamie was genuine. She took Jamie's free hand and pulled him in for a tight hug. "Thanks for everything, Jamie." Her eyes were filled with tears when she pulled back. "You did more for Ben than anyone ever could have. I can never repay you for making the last two years of his life so special."

Jamie's own eyes were wet. "He did more than that for me, Nora. He was a friend when I needed one the most."

Nora looked down at Jamie's hand, his fingers entwined with Dillon's. When she glanced back up, Dillon was relieved to see nothing but approval. Nora said, "It looks like you've found someone else to lean on. I'm glad, honey. Ben would have wanted that."

Jamie nodded. "I know. Oh, Brandon said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I do. If you have a few minutes, we can do this now." She looked around. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Dillon spoke up. "You could use the prayer room, if it's empty."

"That sounds good to me. I brought all the documents, just in case I ran into you tonight." Nora sighed. "Actually, that's not strictly true. I planned on running into you. Sort of an accidentally-on-purpose kind of thing. The sooner I get this legal stuff over and done with, the better."

Jamie looked as confused as Dillon was. "Documents? Legal stuff? I'm not sure I understand. Brandon told me that the guy who hit Ben copped a plea."

"He did. This isn't about Barry Sledge, may he rot. This is about Ben's will."

"Ben had a will?" Jamie's eyes went wide.

"He sure did. One thing about Ben that most people didn't know, he was a meticulous record keeper. You'd never have known it to look at him, but he saved everything. He also had a near photographic memory. That kid never forgot anything."

"Ben?" Dillon didn't mean to say it, but it slipped out, anyway.

Nora didn't seem offended. "I know. It doesn't fit his personality, not the one he showed to the world, anyway. I think Ben saw being smart as a hindrance. Let's face it, in his past life, the one he had before he came to Reed, intelligence wasn't what people wanted from him." Her jaw tightened. "Dan Morgan was only too happy to point that out, the bastard."

Dillon wasn't exactly a touchy feely person, but Jamie looked so helpless in the face of Nora's anger over Morgan, he had to step in. He put his hand on Nora's arm. "Why don't the two of you go ahead and get this part of it over with? I bet you'll feel better once you do."

"You're right, Dillon." She reached out and patted his cheek. "You're a sweet kid. Jamie is one lucky boy."

Jamie said, "Nora, is it all right if Dillon comes with us? I'd like for him to hear this, if that's okay with you."

"Of course. Why don't the two of you lead the way, and we'll have at it. This won't take long, and like I said, I brought everything I needed with me. I know reading a will at what for all intents and purposes was a funeral is considered poor taste, but I just felt like I had to do this." She looked to Jamie. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Jamie pointed down the long hall. "The prayer room is right down here."

The three of them descended the hall and entered the prayer room, which was, thankfully, deserted. Dillon hung the "occupied" sign on the outer knob and closed the door. Nora took one of the high-backed leather chairs, leaving Jamie and Dillon to share the couch. Dillon felt Jamie's hand slide into his again as Nora removed a manila envelope from her purse. Placing a pair of reading glasses on her slightly sloped nose, Nora pulled everything out of the envelope and shuffled through the papers until she found the one she was looking for. She scanned it for a second, then looked to Jamie and said, "Are you ready for this? Ben wrote it out himself, but he had it notarized and then filed by a lawyer, so it's all above board."

"I'm ready." The pressure on Dillon's hand increased.

"Good. I'll just read this as it's written, and then if you have any questions, I'll answer them after we're finished. It's pretty straightforward, though, so I doubt you will." She cleared her throat. "' If you're reading this, that that means I've bitten it. I hope being dead doesn't suck. Anyway, my lawyer said I have to at least take a stab at making this official, so here goes. I, Benjamin Neil Lewis, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave the balance of my savings account, which at present comes to three-hundred, sixty-five dollars and fourteen cents, to my foster mother, Nora Slater. It could be less than that by the time I actually kick the ole bucket, but hey, a guy's got expenses. Anyway, that and my arrowhead collection go to Nora. Nora, I know you've always liked Indian stuff, since you sort of are one. Well, half, anyway.'" Nora stopped, and Dillon could see that her hands were shaking.

Jamie stepped in. "Nora, if you need to do this later, we can."

"No, Jamie. I appreciate the thought, but I need to get this done. I need to find my own peace over losing Ben." She straightened out the paper and began again. "'With the exception of those two things, all my other worldly possessions--clothes, books, not that I have many of those, CD's, my computer--all of that stuff, I leave to my friend James Winston Walker. I'm also leaving him my most prized possession, my nineteen-eighty-five Pontiac Firebird, title of which can be found in my safe deposit box down at the Reed Savings and Loan, along with various other receipts, papers, etc., etc. Nora has the key, J. There are a couple of other things in the box that I need you to take care of for me, buddy, seeing as how I'm dead and all. I trust you, though, J, and I know you'll do the right thing. Oh, and if you scratch my car while you're learning how to drive it, I'll come back and haunt your ass.'"

Nora stopped, Dillon guessed, to gauge Jamie's reaction. "How are you holding up, Jamie? Are you ready to hear the last of it?"

Dillon could feel Jamie shaking, but he was proud of the strength in Jamie's voice when he said, "I'm good. Let's finish it."

"Okay, but this last part is tough, so if at any time you need me to stop, let me know." When Jamie nodded, Nora continued. "'Okay, so now that I know my car is going to a good home, I can get on with the being dead part. Now, about my body. I'm not much for pushing up daisies, and the whole worms-feasting-on-my-dead-flesh-thing creeps me out, so I want to be cremated. What's that lyric? 'It's better to burn out than fade away?' So, set me on fire and be done with it. And Nora, stuff a few fire crackers in my pockets first, will ya? Give those morticians something to put a little excitement in their lives. Wait. My lawyer just told me that they cremate you naked. Damn. Well, in that case, Nora, there are several holes on my person where you could shove those babies. I'll leave the choice of which orifice up to you. That having been said, that leaves only the question of what to do with my ashes. I've never cared too much for the thought of spending all eternity sitting in a glorified flower pot on someone's mantel, so I ask, Nora, that you give my ashes to Jamie. Okay, J, this next part is for you. You've had almost as much unhappiness in your life as I've had, and that's saying something, let me tell ya. I have a feeling, though, that things are gonna change for you, and soon. If I'm right, the next time you feel happy--and I mean truly, deeply, not a care in the world happy--I want you to find the most beautiful spot you can think of, and spread those jokers out. I may not like the idea of rotting in a box, but I sort of like the thought of seeping back into the dirt. You know, dust to dust, that kind of thing. Anyway, I've said pretty much all that I need to. Just be happy, J and Nora. I love you guys. Okay, dead guy, signing out.'"

Jamie sat in stunned silence while Nora refolded the paperwork and put it back in the envelope. Dillon wished there was something he could say, but he found himself at a loss. He squeezed Jamie's hand, and was relieved to feel him squeeze back. At least he didn't seem to be in shock again.

Nora pulled one more envelope form her purse, this one larger. She stood and walked over to where Jamie sat, handing it to him. "This is your copy of the will, sweetheart, along with the keys to Ben's car, and also the deposit box key. You can pick the car--and the rest of Ben's things--up anytime you like."

Jamie stood and took the envelope from her. Dillon stood as well, just as Jamie said, "Nora, I can't drive. I don't even know what I'm gonna do with that car. If you want it--"

"No, honey. Ben wanted you to have that car, and so do I. Besides," she gave Dillon another one of her warm smiles, "I don't think you'll have any trouble finding an instructor." She pulled Jamie close and gave him a rocking hug, then surprised Dillon by doing the same to him. Before she pulled back she whispered, "Take care of him, Dillon. He's a special guy." She pulled back before Dillon could answer and said, "Okay, guys, I'm out of here. I have a date with a romance novel and a bubble bath. Just come by whenever, Jaime. There's no rush." Nora left without waiting for a reply.

Jamie drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, like he was having trouble gathering his thoughts. Finally, he said, "Wow."

Dillon thought "wow" was a fairly appropriate statement. He slipped his arm around Jamie's waist, leaving it loose, just in case Jamie wasn't ready for the contact. "How do you feel about all this?"

Jamie shook his head. "I'm not sure. A part of me can't believe Ben even had a will, let alone left all his stuff to me. But, at the same time, knowing Ben like I did, it's exactly the kind of thing he would do. If nothing else, he'd have a will drawn up for kicks. I can't believe he hired a lawyer, though. Not on a lark. Where would he get the money? Attorneys don't come cheap."

Dillon wondered the same thing. "Maybe when you open that safe deposit box, you'll find some answers."

Jamie nodded and leaned into Dillon's embrace. Jamie turned so that he was facing him, and before Dillon realized what was happening, Jamie was in his arms. God, he felt good. Dillon wrapped him up tight, the warmth of Jamie's body seeping into his skin. Dillon slid his arms up under the back of Jamie's suit jacket, just above his waist. Jamie's head was pressed against Dillon's chest, so much so that Dillon barely heard him mutter, "Thanks for staying with me. I don't think I could've sat through that will reading stuff without you."

Dillon kissed the top of his head. "I told you once before, Jamie. I'm through running. I want to take care of you, to protect you." Dillon cursed himself the minute he said it. "Damn. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I don't think of you as the girl in our relationship, Jamie. I swear to God I don't. I just want to take care of you, to make sure you're safe. I'd be the same way about anyone I . . . cared about." He tried to pull away, intent on seeing Jamie's face, but Jamie wouldn't let him.

"I know, Dillon. I was just angry before, mad about the whole situation. But I'm not now. I mean, I'm still mad about Ben dying, but I'm gonna stop hiding behind it. I'm ready."

God, please let him mean what Dillon thought he meant. "Ready? What are you ready for, Jamie?"

"Ready to stop hiding behind anger and bitterness. Ready to trust you, to give you myself again. I'm ready to be with you, Dillon. Completely."

* * *

Dillon let himself into Heath's apartment, surprised that his feet even touched the floor. He felt lighter than he had in months. Hell, years, even. He was so stoked, he didn't even see Heath standing in the middle of the living room until he nearly knocked him over.

"Jesus, Heath. You scared the crap out of me." Heath just stood there, still not saying a word. Dillon waved his hand in front of Heath's face. "Heath? You in there?"

"I have carpet."

"Uh, yeah, Heath, you do." Dillon was starting to get concerned. "Did you inhale a whole lot of smoke at work tonight?"

Heath shook himself. "Damn. That was scary. I thought for a minute there I was in the wrong place. I just got home from work, and instead of my stuff, I find this. Were we robbed?"

Dillon couldn't help but smile. "No, we were Nash-ed."

"Megan?"

"And Gale. They came before the memorial service. Don't worry, though. They saved everything that was worth anything."

Heath sighed. "It was damned nice of them to come and clean this place. Especially Megan. I'm surprised she didn't have other plans. Did she, uh, go to the service alone?"

Dillon wondered if Heath could hear the jealousy in his own voice. Dillon certainly could. "Heath, it was a funeral, not the senior prom. Of course she came alone. If you care about Megan, just tell her."

Heath ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not that easy, Dillon. She's too young for me. Besides, as pretty as she is, Megan will have no shortage of guys her age, all wanting to take her out."

"Heath, you're only five years older than she is. If you care--"

Heath waved him away. "Let it go, kid. It ain't gonna happen. Now, I want you to come over here, sit down, and tell me what happened tonight. We had two fire calls this evening. That's the reason I couldn't make it to the service, by the way. We were shorthanded, so I couldn't leave. For what it's worth, though, I really wanted to be there to support you and James."

"We both understood."

"Still, I wanted to be there." Heath walked over to the recliner and collapsed into it, motioning for Dillon to take the couch. He looked down at his clean clothes. "It's a good thing I showered at the station. I'd be afraid to come into this place all covered with soot. It looks like a different apartment. And, knowing you, you worked just as hard as Gale and Megan did. Thanks, little brother."

Dillon shrugged. "I live here, too. It was no big deal."

Heath rolled his eyes. "There's no thanking some people. Anyway, tell me what happened at the memorial."

Dillon told him everything, sparing few details. When he got to the part about Morgan, Heath whistled. "Bet that went over well."

"Let's just put it this way: Brandon Nash was less than thrilled, and I wouldn't be surprised if, from now on, Morgan finds himself being arrested for everything from littering to jaywalking."

"That's no less than he deserves. James and Nora must have been devastated to have all Ben's dirty laundry aired in The First Christian Church for half of Reed to hear."

"They both were, but in a way, I'm grateful to Morgan."

"How so? The guy's a total dick."

"True, but Morgan's speech prompted Brandon to get up and make one of his own. I'm not sure what it was, but something Bran said made Jamie change his mind about us," Dillon then went on to tell Heath about the reading of the will, and Jamie's decision to be with him.

"Wow. So, what now?"

"Well, after Jamie hugged me and told me that he wanted to give us another chance, I took him home. We talked on the way to his aunt's house, and I think we were actually able to work through some things. Jamie felt guilty for moving on, but we both agree that Ben would want him to be happy. More than anything, Ben's death has taught us that we don't always know how much time we have left. Even so, we're gonna take this slow. You know, date for a while." Dillon knew he wore a goofy grin, but he couldn't help it. One date with Jamie would be better than two weeks of torrid sex with anyone else.

"You guys going out tomorrow night?"

"I wish, but Jamie promised his aunt he would help her get some stuff ready for a bazaar at their church. And Monday through Friday of this coming week is out because Mr. Pembroke is letting me make up the hours of work I missed this past week. I'm off next Saturday, though, and Jamie's agreed to let me take him out then."

"Any idea where you'll take him?"

Dillon shrugged. "The usual places, I guess. Dinner, a movie."

Heath sighed. "And here I thought sure I'd passed all my sexual charisma on to you. What a shame."

"What? What's wrong with dinner and a movie?"

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it, kid. Dinner and a movie is fine, but this is James we're talking about, your soul mate, the man you've spent the better part of two years pining for. You want to do this thing right."

"All right, Romeo. What do you suggest?"

"Hmm. Let me think about it for a sec." Heath leaned back and closed his eyes. "Dinner and a movie works, if you spice it up a little bit." He sat up and opened his eyes. "I know. I have a friend who owns one of those classic theater's in Chicago. You know, one of those that was built in the thirties and allowed to run down? Well, anyway, this guy I know bought one of those and had it completely restored to its former glory. He shows classic movies, as well as Indie films. Let me talk to him, and see what I can do. I'll also call around and see if I can find you guys a reservation at a decent restaurant."

"Heath, I appreciate that, but I can't really afford--"

Heath shrugged. "It's on me, brother o' mine."

"No, I can't let you do that, Heath. You've already refused to let me pay rent or help with groceries. You've done enough."

"There's no such thing as enough where family is concerned." Heath looked Dillon right in the eyes. "Consider it penance for leaving you alone with Mom and Dad when I moved out. Or for that punch I leveled at your jaw when I thought you were fooling around on Megan. Maybe you could just say that I love you, and I want you to be happy."

Dillon could feel himself choking up. "You're really cool with me being gay, then? It doesn't bother you."

Heath stood up and grabbed Dillon, pulling him to his feet and crushing him in a hug. "I told you it didn't. You can't help being gay any more than you can help being a complete and total dork."

Dillon punched him lightly in the stomach. Heath pulled back, and his expression turned serious. "All teasing aside, Dillon, there's no shame in being gay. It's no different than being straight or bi. You love who you love. I'm cool with it, as long as James treats you right." Heath gave him one more squeeze before the both of them sat back down.

"He will. Jamie is an amazing person, Heath. He would never hurt me."

"I believe you on that score, kid. Oh, I forgot to ask, what's James gonna do about Ben's will?"

"We talked a little bit about that on the way home. I don't have to be at work on Monday till five, so I'm gonna run him by the bank after school, and he's gonna clean out the safe deposit box. He'll know more after he does that."

"Cool beans." Heath yawned. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, kid. Keep me posted." He stood up and stretched.

Dillon nodded. "I will. And thanks, Heath, for everything."

"Quit thanking me, Dillon. You're gonna have to get used to people helping you."

Dillon was starting to think that it wasn't gonna be much of an adjustment at all.

* * *

The change in Jamie since the memorial two days ago was incredible. He was openly affectionate with Dillon, holding his hand and kissing him on the cheek--even the lips--whenever he felt like it. Neither of them had initiated a heavy lip lock, not since that day in the hall, but Dillon was hopeful. The sexual tension between them was thick, but he was letting Jamie set the pace.

Monday crept by, Dillon's every thought having been dominated by Jamie since the minute Dillon dropped him off at his homeroom door. Lunch didn't last near long enough, to Dillon's way of thinking, but the minute he saw Jamie waiting for him after school, the anxiety he'd been feeling vanished. Jamie was close, and that was all that matter.

The Reed Savings and Loan was only about three blocks from school, but Dillon used every minute of the short drive to his advantage. He held Jamie's hand the whole way, using the pad of his thumb to caress the inside of Jamie's palm. Jamie's soft quivering was a gift to Dillon, one that would keep him going for days.

Mr. Lee, the bank manager, greeted them in the lobby. "Good afternoon, boys. Can I be of some assistance to you?"

Dillon had known Henry Lee for most of his life, as had Jamie. The man was one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people Dillon had ever met. He was also a bitter enemy of Dillon's father, having been the subject of one of Douglas Carver's gay bashing crusades. Dillon was a bit worried that Mr. Lee might hold it against him, but the warm smile Lee extended to him and Jamie told him otherwise. The old saying must be true, then. The enemy of your enemy really is your friend.

Jamie said, "Actually, you can help us, Mr. Lee, if you aren't busy."

Again, Lee smiled. "Not at all. How can I help?"

Jamie fished his key out of his pocket. "My friend had a safe deposit box. When he d--" Jamie took a deep breath. "When he died, he left the contents to me. I have the will, if you need to see it."

"That won't be necessary, James. The key is enough." Mr. Lee motioned for them to follow him to his office. Once there he opened a strong box located on top of his filing cabinet and searched for the matching key. As he did so, he said, "By the way, Dillon, I heard about what happened with your father." He stopped the search long enough to give Dillon a look that was two parts understanding, one part pity. "It saddens me that you had to suffer through that, Dillon, and if there's anything my partner or I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I won't. Thank you, sir."

Lee nodded, then said, "Ah ha." He held up the key. "Found it. If the two of you will follow me, I'll fit my key in first, then leave you to open the box in privacy."

The vault was little more than a metal box with a table and a couple of chairs. Mr. Lee pulled box number five sixty seven from its perch and placed it on the table. After unlocking his side, Mr. Lee waited until Jamie popped the latch, offered his regrets to Jamie about Ben, and then slipped out to give them privacy.

Dillon sat across from Jamie, watching him for any sign of distress as he removed the lid and rifled through the contents. Dillon could see two envelopes, one manila, the other a white, legal sized paper with the D.M.V.'s seal on it, the car title, he guessed. He could also see a brown paper sack--filled and folded--taking up the other end of the box.

Jamie sat the envelopes aside and reached for the sack. He upended it, spilling the contents on the table. Dillon stared in blank-faced astonishment as cluster after cluster of bank-banded, one-hundred-dollar bills spilled out.

Jamie's hands were shaking. "Good God."

Well put. Dillon had never seen that much cash in his life. Jamie said, "Would you count it please, Dillon? I can't think."

Dillon nodded and went through each stack of bills, putting them back in the sack as he went. When he was done, Dillon placed the bag back on the table and breathed, "Finished."

"What's the verdict? How much was there?"

Dillon said, "You aren't gonna believe it. Hell, I counted it, and I don't believe it."

"How much?"

"Give or take a hundred, I'd say you've got about forty-two thousand dollars on your hands."