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Rain clouds hung low in the night sky as Tim Bayliss wandered aimlessly through the streets around the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. Paying little attention to his surroundings, the night mists curling around him, he was cloaked in a world of misery.
Chris Rawls had broken up with him earlier tonight, after only a few months of seeing each other. It was his own fault, of course. He'd been unable to accept his mixed feelings about actually being bisexual. His lover had finally given up waiting for him to come to terms with his life. Not that he could really blame Chris, who would want so much angst around them?
It all seemed so damned unfair. Why did everyone get to dump him? He'd taken a big chance even going out with Rawls and the man turned around and treated him just like everyone else.
Tim shook his head. That was completely unfair to Chris. His lover had always treated him well, sometimes better than he deserved, but it still seemed like everyone always wanted something from him he wasn't able to give. Damn. Why me? Would he ever find the right person or be really happy?
"I said, fight or die!" The snarled words, coming from the alley he was passing, startled Tim out of his reverie.
"Keep your voice down. Look, I don't want a fight." The precise English tone was completely different from the first voice, and there was a note of pleading in the clipped words.
"Too bad, I've issued a challenge." The first voice said, somewhat lower.
"Hey," Tim called, reaching for his weapon and starting down the alley. A tiny tendril of fear filled his mind for a moment, as it always did when he entered a potentially dangerous situation, and as always the adrenalin pushed it aside.
A dim yellow light from the street cast the narrow space in shadows. Tim could make out two men standing face to face towards the middle of the debris strewn area. "What's going on here?" he barked in his best cop voice.
"This is none of your concern," said the smaller of the two men, the one who had spoken first.
Reaching into his pocket, Tim pulled out his badge. "This makes it my concern."
The first man shoved something long and shiny into his coat, and pushed the second man to the ground, taking off at a dead run. Tim went after the mugger, but by the time he'd gotten to the other end of the alley, the man had disappeared.
Going back, he saw the victim picking himself up, and dusting off. Reaching down, the man grabbed his dark-framed glasses from where they'd fallen, and settled them back on his prominent nose. "Thanks. I think you saved me from a bit of trouble."
"Are you okay?" Tim asked, re-holstering his weapon.
"Yes. Fine." The man smiled at him. God, what an intriguing face he had, not quite beautiful, but absolutely compelling. Short dark hair framing a thin, pale face with wide hazel eyes and a small, very soft looking mouth. Tim found it hard to take his eyes off of him.
Disconcerted by his sudden attraction, Tim wondered if he would ever really be comfortable with that aspect of his sexuality. "Uh... no problem. You'll need to come with me to the police station to file a complaint. Did you get a good look at the other person?"
The smile disappeared from the handsome face. "No. I don't want to file a complaint."
"Why not? The guy was going to assault you." Tim crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the victim. He hated when people were too afraid to make complaints. Didn't they realize that the perpetrators never got caught and continued to hurt people if they stayed out of it? "If we don't get him, he might hurt someone else."
Shaking his head, he started to edge towards the end of the alley. "No. I can't. I'm sorry."
The beautiful English accent was doing nasty things to Tim's nerve endings. He'd be glad when the guy was gone, but not before the other man did what was right.
Following him, Tim tried again. "Don't you care that he might hurt someone else?"
Reaching the end of the alley, the Englishman turned to look at him, his eyes almost on the same level as Tim's. The green-gold eyes looked old, but he was younger than Tim. "Yes. But he didn't hurt me. And I don't want to get involved. I'm sorry."
Tim sighed, disappointed. There was no talking to people like this. "Fine."
He looked around again, then right at Tim. "Can I leave?"
"If I can't convince you to file a report. Go ahead. I'll file it myself." Tomorrow. If this person wasn't going to help, there was no hope of anything coming of this. It was all going to be a waste of time, but he had to do it anyway.
Far too good-looking for Tim's peace of mind, the sooner this guy was gone the better he'd feel about it. Why did he have to find such attractive men at crime scenes? He'd almost think it was cosmic fate, as if someone was trying to tell him something he really didn't want to know.
Starting to turn away, he stopped, and grinned at Tim. "Listen, I could really use a beer, what about you?"
The invitation startled Tim; he'd expected the man to just leave, he wanted him to leave.
And that grin was far too friendly, the interest in the lovely eyes far too plain. For a second, Tim wondered if he'd let his attraction show; he must have. "Why?" Tim asked, stalling for time to think. Did he really want to do this? Okay, the guy was good-looking and that accent, he could listen to it all night. But picking up strangers was always a bad idea -- even cute, harmless looking ones.
"Why not? You can take another shot at trying to convince me to talk." He smiled again. Tim's heart beat picked up, and despite the cool weather, he started to sweat as excitement danced on his nerves. Trying to squelch the reaction, he took a breath.
"Would it work?" Tim hated the note of hope in his voice. The guy was now quite obviously flirting with him. Was he really going to let himself be picked up in an alley? Feeling suddenly reckless, Tim decided he just might. And maybe he could convince him to give a statement. Yeah, right, who was he trying to kid?
Shrugging, the guy smiled. "Probably not. But hey, it's worth a try."
Shaking his head, he knew it was a mistake, but he found that smile really hard to resist. You're going to end up a statistic, his rational brain tried to tell him, but it was already too late. "Okay, where?"
"The Inner Harbor isn't too far, but I have a car, so anywhere you want."
He was not getting into a car with someone he didn't know, even armed. That much sense he did manage to keep. "Let's go to Flannagan's at Harbor Place. We can walk. What's your name?" Tim asked as they started for the inner harbor area.
"Adam Pierson. And you?"
"Tim Bayliss."
The walk in the cool, damp night air cleared his mind, but he still couldn't believe he was doing this. What was wrong with him anyway? He'd just gotten dumped by one man, and here he was letting himself get picked up by another. What was he thinking? Actually, he wasn't thinking, all he wanted to do was forget about everything for a while.
How much risk was there in going for a drink? He was armed. They were also on foot, and while the other man seemed in good shape, so was he. Of course, it was really hard to tell much about Adam since he was wearing a long black coat.
A short time later they arrived at the bar, finding a table in the back, and ordering beers from a passing waitress. Adam settled in, taking off his coat, there was a faint clink of metal as the material settled over the chair. Tim wanted to ask about it, but Adam distracted him with another blinding smile. "So, you're a cop here in Baltimore?"
The pretty waitress deposited their drinks on the table along with a bowl of popcorn. Not very hungry, Tim ignored it.
"Yeah. Homicide. What about you?"
"I teach at Johns Hopkins."
A vague sense of disappointment rolled over Tim. There was a big gap between a John Hopkins professor and a Baltimore cop. Not that it mattered, because he wasn't going to see this man again after tonight, but still. "What do you teach?"
"History." Adam took a hand full of he popcorn, popping it into his mouth, one kernel at time.
Tim tried hard not to be fascinated by the movement of that small mouth. "Oh."
"You don't like teachers?" Adam leaned back in to his chair, looking up at him.
"No, I like teachers fine." He did, but he just wasn't sure a professor would be very interested in him.
"Then what?" .
Tim shrugged "Nothing. I should go."
"I thought you were going to try to talk me into filing a report." The green-gold eyes twinkled with amusement.
"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "I can't make you civic minded. I can't make you care about your community. But it will be on your conscience if that guy hurts someone else. I don't know about you, but I'd have a hard time living with that."
Adam dropped his eyes, nodding. "You're right, and I'll think about it."
Tim wondered if he should push it, but decided not to. "I'm glad. Not enough people care."
"Sometimes caring can get you into trouble." Adam's voice was quiet, almost pained. He seemed to be speaking from some other experience than just tonight.
"You sound like you know about that," Tim said, trying to draw him out. For reason's he didn't want to examine too closely, he wanted to know more about his companion.
"Only too well. Are you a native?" Adam's sharp change of subject was a good indicator that he'd hit too close to home. Tim understood that only too well.
"Yeah, born and raised in Bawlmer," Tim said in just the right east Baltimore accent.
"Tell me about it? I've been here just over a year, and I've learned something of the city. It's a fascinating place."
"It is. I love this city." Tim relaxed, warming up to his subject, telling his new friend tales of his city, keeping the conversation light. But underneath, he felt the pull of a strong attraction that never left his surface thoughts.
After a while, Tim realized it was getting late and more than time for him to be getting home. "I need to go."
"You haven't finished your beer," Adam said, pointing a long finger at the half empty bottle.
He hated warm beer. And he really needed to get out of here, despite the friendliness, Adam made him nervous. The attraction he felt was too strong; he needed some space. "Finish it for me. Listen, if you do change your mind about trying to identify the guy, you can call me. Here's my card." He handed him a card with his work number on it. Tim had little hope of Adam changing his mind, but it was worth a shot.
"Thanks," Adam said, taking the card.
Tim turned and left. It was a long walk home, giving Tim plenty of time to think about his encounter with Adam Pierson.
Adam Pierson a.k.a. Methos watched the tall, handsome detective walk away with a sigh that was half relief and half disappointment. He'd have liked to have spent more time talking with the good-looking man, but Tim Bayliss was dangerous. Not just to his survival, but to his equilibrium as well.
There was a bone-deep flaw in his psyche that caused him to be attracted to certain types of people. And without even really knowing Tim, Methos sensed he was that type. They'd had one conversation and already he knew that if he spent too much time with the detective; he'd be lost. What was worse, if he did manage to get involved with Tim, Methos could not imagine telling him about Immortality and worse yet, The Game. A man like Tim would not understand, let alone accept.
Shaking his head, Methos smiled at himself. He'd barely met the man, and already he had himself married to him. Drinking down the last of Tim's beer, imagining as he put his lips on the wet spot where Tim's lips had been, what it would be like to kiss that soft, soft mouth, Methos shivered.
Stop. This is not going to happen. No. Methos turned the card over and over, trying to convince himself it was really a bad idea to go to the station at Fells Point tomorrow and make a statement.
But what would it hurt? He didn't know the other immortal's name; thankfully, things hadn't gotten that far.
When there was no choice at all, he would fight for his life, but he'd walk away if he could. Gods, but he hated to fight. Not because he was afraid he'd lose, but because there was no longer any joy in winning, and taking the quickenings hurt. He'd taken so many in his five-thousand years that if he never took another, he would be forever grateful. But the likelihood of that occurring was too small to calculate.
With a sigh, he admitted to himself, he didn't care for killing anymore, if he ever really did. After so long every thrill lost its luster. Well, everything except the feeling of wonder that happened when you met someone who sparked a light in your soul.
There had been too few of those in his life. The last had been Alexa. It was most unfair that after centuries of being alone, he finally met someone special and fate decreed he'd spend far too short a time with her. And if that weren't bad enough, there was the other person he'd met in the last few years who'd sparked his passion -- not to mention his anger, outrage and sincere lust. That was just a few of the strong emotions Duncan MacLeod engendered in him. But that was a subject he refused to study right now.
Two years ago, MacLeod had walked away from everything and everyone in his life. Methos had not seen or heard from him since the night Mac took O'Rouke's head. But rarely did a day go by without his thoughts passing the Highlander's way. One of these days he was going to go and find MacLeod to settle what had been between them. But not today.
As if fate hadn't been cruel enough, meeting Tim Bayliss tonight had lit a tiny ember of hope in his heart, one that Methos knew would burn brightly given half a chance. But, the reasons for not getting involved far out-weighted the ones for doing it. First and foremost: Tim was a cop.
But Tim was interested, of that he was sure. He'd been alive too long to mistake the flare of arousal in the caramel colored eyes. But something about the man's reticence seemed to shout that he wasn't comfortable with who he was. Methos judged him too old to have just discovered himself, yet you never knew. Most people, even in this repressed society, figured out what they wanted by the time they'd hit their middle twenties.
Listing all the reasons for not seeing Bayliss again, Methos continued playing with the card Tim had given him. He had to give it a shot. The alternative was unthinkable.
Weary, Tim sat at his desk, trying to read the case file in front of him, but his concentration was off today. His mind kept going back over the events of last night. First, his fight and break-up with Chris, which had hurt much more than he expected, probably because he cared more than he was willing to admit. Then his rescue -- if you could call it that -- of the handsome history professor.
Part of him wished that he'd stayed longer and spent more time talking to Adam. At least long enough to get his phone number. Well, he did know where Adam worked, but John Hopkins was a big place.
He shook his head at his own silliness. If he wanted to find Adam, he would have little trouble doing so.
Sighing to himself, the question really was whether or not he really wanted to? Tim didn't know. There was absolutely no denying that he'd been half hard the whole time he'd been in the younger man's presence. But did he want to pursue it so soon after Chris? Wouldn't he have the same problems with acceptance that he'd had before? Yeah, probably. But at least he'd have some time before the problems started again.
"Tim," Judy, the office secretary called, "someone here to see you."
Tim looked up to see her leading Adam to his desk. He stood, smiling tentatively as Adam approached.
He was even better looking in the bright light of day than he'd been in the dim bar last night. Still wearing the long coat, a baggy cream-colored sweater and jeans, Adam walked with an almost feline grace. The attraction Tim felt when he met Adam hadn't dimmed; if anything it was worse.
"I changed my mind about filing the report," Adam said, holding out his hand to shake Tim's.
A jolt of raw pleasure ripped through Tim at the touch of the surprisingly calloused hand. "I'm glad. I turned in a report this morning." He sat down and waved Adam to the chair next to his desk
Adam sat down, nodding slightly. "An officer Williams said that. I spent the morning looking at pictures, but none of them was the right guy."
"What made you change your mind?" Tim asked, quietly. Last night he'd have bet Adam would never darken the door of this place.
"Your last speech made me feel guilty, which is something I almost never do." A rueful smile touched the small mouth.
Tim wasn't sure he believed that line, but whatever it was, it got Adam here doing the right thing. "Nice to know you listened."
"You're very hard to ignore."
The quiet words, in that delicious English accent, skidded along Tim's nerve endings on their way to his groin. He felt a blush start at his toes. Damn, he hated his fair skin sometimes.
"Uh..."
Adam dropped his eyes, suddenly, endearingly shy. "I was wondering..." He took a breath. "Are you free for lunch?"
Tim realized that Adam was as nervous as he was. Feeling a little better about everything, he cast a quick glance around the squad room, just to be sure no one was paying any attention to him or his guest. He looked at his watch. 11:20. "It's a little early."
"Too early?"
There was such hope in Adam's tone, Tim didn't want to disappoint him. "No. I'll just take a little extra time."
"Good."
They settled on a local restaurant, eating a leisurely meal, and making small talk. After lunch, Tim didn't want to go back to his office just yet. "Do you want to take a walk?" Tim asked, as they stepped into the bright sunshine, hoping Adam didn't have to rush away. He'd really been enjoying Adam's company. The younger man was so intelligent, it was a pleasure to talk to him. Adam always seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say, never taking offense or misunderstanding.
"Yes, that would be great. I don't have anything planned for today."
Pleased that Adam sounded delighted by the idea, Tim smiled hugely. "No classes or anything?"
"No. I was supposed to have office hours, but I've arranged for my graduate assistant to take them. I'm all yours." Adam's grin went right thought him.
Tim ignored the innuendo, focusing instead on the first half of Adam's statement. "I wish I could arrange for someone to do my paperwork sometimes." The truth was that he loved working cases, figuring out the myriad of clues to find the murderer. But sometimes the paper work the job entailed seemed endless, especially his time sheets.
Adam shrugged, quirking up his lips in a small smile. "It's nice, but I spent years on the other end. Up until recently, I was the graduate assistant taking care of details."
"How long?" Tim wanted to know every detail about Adam that he could find out. And he was good at finding out information. Why this was important to know, he didn't want to question too closely.
"How long was I in grad school?"
Tim nodded.
Laughing, Adam tilted his head to one side. "Forever. Or so it seemed. Really, it was only about five or six years. But it was in Paris."
Tim was impressed. He'd always wanted to go to Paris, but on his salary he was lucky to make it to NYC once in a while. "Wow. Must have been nice. I went to University of Maryland and lived at home."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"Nope. But it's not Paris. How did you end up here?"
Adam smiled. "Sheer luck. I got the job offer at Hopkins. I was sorry to leave Paris, though."
"Then why did you?" Tim couldn't imagine leaving Paris if you didn't have to.
"Money. I had a great job, didn't pay much, but I really liked it."
Tim understood that only too well. "What did you do there?"
"I worked for an historical society."
"Historical society? I always wondered what they did in those kinds of places."
"We researched historical figures."
Silence stretched comfortably between them as they continued to walk thought Little Italy to the Inner Harbor.
Although, Adam started out talking about himself, somehow, it was Tim that ended up talking about himself. Spending a lot of time talking about old cases, it was inevitable that he'd end up on the subject of Adena Watson. He found himself pouring out his frustrations about never having closed that case to Adam.
Mortified when tears stung his eyes, he shook his head. It always happened when he thought about that poor little girl.
"Being your first case, it must have hurt terribly to have never solved it." Adam said, sympathy and compassion in his quiet tone.
Tim nodded, a shiver running down his back. "The case haunted me for years. I used to have nightmares about it, seeing the crime scene again and again, all the mistakes I made. I kept trying to put the pieces together. I wanted to bring her killer to justice so badly. I could never let it go."
Adam's warm hand closed over his, comfortingly. "And now?"
"Now," Tim sighed, squeezing Adam's hand before pulling his back. He appreciated the gesture, but they were in public and couldn't hold hands. "I've more or less come to terms with it. I can work a child's murder without being torn apart by it."
"But it still hurts."
"Yeah, no one deserves that, but especially not a child."
Adam nodded.
Talking of other less hurtful things, Tim rambled on and on about other cases, his successes in the box, and of course, his partnership with Frank Pembleton. Their relationship was a topic he could expound upon for hours.
"Your partner sounds like quite the character." There was more than a little amusement in the clipped accented words.
"More than you know, or I can possibly explain."
"But he's a good friend to you?"
"The best. And I love him and his family -- in some cases more than my own." Tim didn't want to think about what some of his family would have done if they had found out about Chris. He loved his cousin Jim, but there would have been no way his cousin would ever have accepted that relationship.
"I know how it is to have friends who are family." Something in Adam's tone made Tim look at him. The green-gold eyes held a bright sheen to them.
Reaching out, he put his hand on Adam's. "You look sad."
"I was just thinking about a friend I haven't seen in almost two years."
"Someone who was like family."
"Yeah. But he needed to get away for a while." Adam sighed. "I've been meaning to go and find him."
"You should. He might be waiting for you."
Like a hot iron, Adam dropped the subject, bringing it back to him and Frank. They sat on a bench for a while longer, then started to walk again, this time towards the science center at Inner harbor. Luckily there wasn't much in the way of crowds, and they could walk slowly along the water.
Methos leaned back against a bench they found outside the science center, closing his eyes and soaking up the late October sunshine. The weather had turned warm for this time of year in Baltimore. The afternoon had been a delight. Talking with Tim turned out to be a most enjoyable way to pass the day. Methos considered what tonight might bring.
"What is it about you?"
Methos looked up at the exasperated tone Tim had used. "Hmm? What's wrong?"
"I just realized that I've spent the whole damned afternoon telling you my secrets."
"Not the whole time. I told you some of mine, too." But Tim was right, Methos had kept he conversation on the detective, deflecting as many questions as he could without being noticed.
"Why do I get the feeling I know a hell of a lot less about you than you know about me?" Tim was smiling, but it didn't really reach his eyes.
"It's your imagination." Methos said, hoping Tim wasn't really angry. He liked the young detective, finding him charming, amusing, and intelligent. Despite the fact Tim dealt with the worst of the population on a regular basis, he somehow retained an innocence about himself that absolutely captivated Methos.
"I don't think so. You work really hard at hiding who you are."
This was getting a little too close to home. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just a history teacher. Nothing more or less."
Tim laughed and this time it did reach his eyes. "Good try. But I doubt you are 'just' anything. I'm a detective, remember, trained to notice things." Tim touched his eyes with his forefinger.
Methos was amused. "Oh?" How could this bright, adorable puppy think he saw so much. There was no way, detective or not. It was a lucky guess about hiding.
"Well, for one thing, you hide yourself physically. Your clothes are slightly too big. So you look smaller in them. You slouch which makes you look smaller and more innocuous. Stand up straight." Tim pulled him to his feet and against his better judgment, Methos did as he was told. Looking Tim in the eyes, but remaining silent.
"Just as I thought, you're almost as tall as I am. And I'm 6'4"."
"So?" This was a surprise and not a pleasant one. He'd seriously underestimated Tim. That was something he almost never did. Being drawn into thinking that Tim was harmless because of that sincere innocence, Methos had made a big mistake. One that under other circumstances could have gotten him killed.
"So, you're hiding. The question is why?"
Methos thought quickly. "I'm not hiding. I like my clothes comfortable, so what if they are a little big. I'm not one of your suspects and this isn't your box."
Tim nodded, looking down. "I'm sorry. It's habit, I guess. But no one hides without a reason. We all have our own reasons for it, don't we?" The words were said so quietly Methos realized Tim was talking about himself in that statement.
"What's yours?" Methos asked, staring right at Tim, trying to gauge what that all too observant mind was thinking.
Tim shook his head. "I've stopped hiding, or at least I've tried to."
"Have you? Then why can't you come to terms with who you are?"
"Who I am?" Tim seemed surprised at the idea, then smiled. "All right, Adam, who am I?"
That wasn't what he'd meant at all. He didn't know who Tim really was, not after so short a time. "Only you can answer that question."
Snorting rudely, Tim sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest and not meeting Methos' eyes.
Pleased to have once again diverted Tim's attention, Methos was surprised to find that the sweet puppy he'd been enjoying all day had sharp baby teeth. Not to mention a brain that worked far too well for his peace of mind. Sitting down next to Tim, he sighed.
Smiling ruefully, Tim looked at him. "You know, you do that really well."
Methos was almost afraid to ask. "Do what?"
"Divert the conversation." Tim's eyes met his and he could see the seriousness of the detective's words.
"Hmm?"
"I was taking about how you seem to be one thing and really are something else."
"Oh, do go on then. What else am I?" This was far too dangerous a conversation to be having, but Methos could not seem to put it aside. He really cared what Tim thought.
"Well, for another thing, you're wearing glasses that are only glass."
That one surprised Methos. He'd been in Baltimore for more than a year, teaching several classes at the university and no one noticed that his glasses were just plain glass. "Why do you say that?"
"Looking sideways thought your lenses should distort my line of vision because I'm looking though two sets of lenses, but it doesn't."
"Why would you notice?"
Tim smirked adorably, like a child who'd done something very clever and was quite pleased with himself. "I notice everything. It's my job."
"And you do it really well, don't you?"
"I'd like to think so." Tim smiled proudly. "But there's more."
"More of what?" Damn, Tim was like a dog with a bone, and it seemed like he wasn't going to give up on this. Methos sighed. That was probably what made Tim good at his job.
"Your hands."
He looked down at his hands. "What about my hands?"
"They are seriously calloused. Like you've done manual labor your whole life, but you're an academic, which lets manual labor out."
"I play racquetball." Methos lied, not knowing what else he could say. Tim was far too observant. But the callouses on his hands had always been there. Methos thought he had probably been a farmer or field hand before his first death, but he had no idea. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact."
Methos tensed. What else could he see? Methos was sure that he didn't want to know. This game was not fun anymore and very shortly it was going to be too dangerous to play.
"I see a man who looks younger than he is."
"Yeah?" Relief surged though him, this had to be Tim's best shot. At least, he hoped it was.
"Yeah, you look, what twenty-five maybe, but your eyes tell a different story. You have a darkness, a sadness, an age in your eyes that belays what I see on your face. If I didn't know better I'd say you were a thousand years old."
More like five thousand, Methos thought, impressed despite himself at Tim's analysis. But it was too close, too dangerous. A sadness entered his soul; he'd never be able to pursue the relationship with Tim now. There was no way he'd be able to keep his secrets.
And he knew without asking Tim would never be able to accept who he was now. His past was so full of horror and pain, Methos would have to keep it a secret, until the first immortal came calling and Tim learned of it and too much else.
It might be possible to hide, but it would mean cutting himself off from contact with all other immortals completely and hoping that no one found him. But, he had a few friends now that he'd really like to keep up with. Then again, what was fifty or so years to an immortal? Having hidden before, he knew it could be done, for a while anyway.
Time for the conversation to go back into Tim's court. "What about you? Your eyes look just as old. You've seen a lot more of the dark side than most people ever do."
Tim's soul harbored a darkness, a sadness that Methos hadn't noticed at first. The sweet, gentle man seemed so uncomplicated. But, slowly, over the course of the long afternoon, it had been revealed how haunted Tim Bayliss was.
"I know. I'm working on accepting the darkness in myself."
That answer surprised him; most people did not want to even acknowledge the darkness in their hearts, let alone accept it. "Why would you want to?"
"My partner, Frank, I've mentioned him before, " Tim paused, looking up and Methos nodded. "He told me once that the only way I'd close cases was to love the darkness in my soul. I think he was right. I think the only way to be happy, truly happy, not just content with yourself, is to learn to love the darkness as well as the light, the good and the bad." Tim dropped his voice to a low whisper. "The gay and the straight."
Out of the mouths of babes. "Your partner sounds very wise." After everything he'd heard about Frank Pembleton, Methos thought he'd be an interesting man to know. But not someone he'd want to meet, ever. He had a feeling Frank would see right into his soul. With that uncanny ability to see the truth, one of them would not survive the encounter. If he thought Tim was unable to deal with the truth about immortals, Frank Pembleton would be exponentially less able to do so.
Still, Frank seemed like he'd been just what Tim needed, if not wanted, in a partner. Or at least Tim thought so. Methos privately wondered about Tim's feelings for his partner. He'd bet good money that Tim was at least half in love with Frank without being conscious of it. Or maybe he just couldn't acknowledge it. According to Tim, Frank was happily married and completely in love with his wife. But likely it was part of the reason that Frank's approval was so important to Tim.
Smirking, Tim's eyes were alight with a joke. "Yeah, he'd like everyone to believe he's so wise."
"Do you believe it?"
The light left his eyes. "I don't know. At one time I did."
"But not now?"
Shrugging his wide shoulders, Tim shook his head. "I dunno. I really don't. Let's walk some more."
They walked in silence for a time. The afternoon grew warm and bright, no signs of last night's cloudy, rainy weather. They crossed the covered bridges that led from the inner harbor to little Italy.
"Hey," Tim called, delight making his voice sound young. He pointed towards the end of the parking lot. "There's a Ben&Jerry's. Want to get some?" He started in that direction without waiting for Methos to answer. Following after the tall detective, Methos couldn't hold back his smile. Tim was like a child sometimes.
They both got treats, sitting on a bench outside the store to eat.
"Do you want a taste?" Tim held the chocolate, chocolate chip cookie dough confection out.
Unable to resist, Methos took a lick. "Mmmm..."
Two teenaged boys were walking by and one of them muttered, "Faggots," just loud enough to be heard.
Tim's eyes met his. Surprisingly, there was nothing but wary amusement in the caramel colored depths.
"It doesn't bother you?" Methos asked, following the progress of the boys. Teenaged boys could be so unpredictable -- you never knew how they'd react.
"No. You?"
"No. Sticks and stones and all." Well, that was the truth. But he was more than surprised by Tim's easy acceptance of the slur.
"Yeah. That kind of thing never did bother me. I don't care much what other people think. Well, what most people think." An amused grin touched the soft mouth.
"I'm surprised. I thought you were having problems accepting being gay."
"Bisexual. And I only care how I think about it; how I can work it out in my mind. People calling me names is nothing. I'm a cop; I've been called names by experts. It goes with the territory."
"Do you accept it?"
Tim shrugged again. "I want to. I don't know why I find it so difficult. I think it fucks with my image of myself, not so much as a man, but as a potential father. I want children. I want to do a better job than my father did." Taking an absent lick of his ice cream, Tim looked down. "I don't know."
There were a million emotions flitting across Tim's pale face. What had Tim's father done or not done to engender this kind of reaction just by speaking about him?
Tim's pink tongue licked up the ice cream cone, circling the top before pulling it back into his mouth. Methos was completely distracted from his thoughts. Gulping hard, he saw that tongue dart out to lick again. Tim could be so damned seductive, guilelessly, so innocent one moment, so dark and broody the next. Methos wanted to know all the sides of the detective.
Arousal teased at his senses, but Methos tried steadfastly to push it away. He couldn't have the beautiful detective, as much as he wanted him. His secrets would never be safe. And his truth wasn't a secret Tim Bayliss could ever, ever deal with.
Faced with a threat to his survival, Methos did not want to think about what choices he might be forced to make. But if the detective became a threat, he'd have to find a way to deal with it, even if it was very painful. The best idea was to ensure that Tim never became a threat.
After finishing their treats, they walked around some more, enjoying the sunshine.
Tim couldn't believe it. How did he end up in his living room with a man he hardly knew, eating pizza and chatting like they had been friends forever, rather than just a few hours. What had possessed him to blow off an afternoon of work to spend it with Adam? He had no idea, but he'd had a great time.
There was something so liberating about spending the afternoon playing hooky from work. He'd pay for it tomorrow when Frank was on his high horse being pissy and Gee was complaining about the amount of red under his name. But today, today had been worth the price. He'd needed to get his emotional equilibrium back to center and spending the day as they had was just the ticket.
Something about the younger man had completely intrigued him. Some indefinable something about Adam called out to him. Tim was not used to being attracted to anyone this much. It almost felt like Emma Zoole, but not quite so out of control. Yet it still had that same gloriously sensual edge.
He watched Adam eat another slice of pizza, the small mouth growing slick with grease. The man was beautiful. He'd thought that last night -- God, was it only last night that he'd met Adam? Yeah, but it felt liked he'd known him forever. Of course, he'd spent the entire afternoon telling the man everything you ever wanted to know about Tim Bayliss, and weren't afraid to ask. What had gotten into him? He didn't know, but he'd never talked to anyone like that. It just wasn't him.
But Adam was different from anyone he'd ever met before. Intriguing, charming, and so sympathetic. He hadn't been able to stop himself.
The phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts with a jolt. Adam jumped too, and they both laughed.
"Let the machine get it," Tim said, not really wanting to deal with anyone or let anything intrude on his stolen time.
The ringing stopped and the message came on. A second later Chris Rawls voice filled the room. "Tim... it's Chris. Uh... I guess you're not home yet. Can you call me, tonight. It's important. Please. I'm... I'm sorry about last night. Can we talk about it?" Click.
Something sharp ripped into Tim's heart. Chris sounded miserable, like he was on the verge of tears.
He could not believe Chris had called. No one ever apologized to him. But obviously he'd regretted last night's fiasco. Hope sparking, Tim could not believe someone who left him would want to come back.
The rejection had stung more deeply than he could have believed possible, and his feelings were a massive jumble right now. He needed time to sort thought them and decide what he was going to do. Maybe he wouldn't take him back.
Even as he formed the malicious thought, he rejected it. If Chris wanted him back, he'd be overjoyed to resume their relationship. The companionship and tenderness of their friendship was a lure he could not hope to resist.
Taking a deep breath he pushed the thoughts of his ex-lover aside.
"Will you call him back?" Adam asked, his eyes direct and curious. They hadn't discussed that yet. Well, not in any detail.
"Eventually. Why?"
"Just curious. What happened last night?" Adam coaxed.
Tim sighed. "He dumped me."
"Why? What happened?" Shock clear on Adam's face. "Why would he do that?"
"It was my fault." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "I'm still really unsure about myself. And I sometimes can't respond the way Chris wants me to. I think it got to be too much for him last night."
"What happened?" Adam's voice was gentle, soothing, encouraging him to talk as it had all afternoon.
Dropping his eyes, he didn't want Adam to see the embarrassment he knew he couldn't hide. "We were out to dinner and ..."
"And?"
"And he kissed me in public. I freaked out." He sighed, feeling silly now that he had to spell it out in words. At the time, the audacity of Chris' action had outraged him. He still couldn't quite believe his lover had treated him like that.
"Where did he kiss you, there' s public and public."
"It was outside his restaurant, in Mount Vernon." Tim assumed that Adam had been in Baltimore long enough to know the neighborhood was predominantly gay.
"So it was relatively safe. It wasn't like you were necking in the Inner Harbor on a sunny Saturday."
"No, but that's not the point. It was that he was trying to stake a claim." What he thought Chris really wanted was to goad him into making a commitment.
"And you don't want to be claimed?"
"It's not that." Tim found it hard to explain why he had gotten so angry with Chris. There had been a man flirting with him, not even really flirting, just making eye contact. Tim had been amused, but not really attracted. But after all of these months of dating and sleeping together, Chris was looking for more of a commitment than Tim could make.
Adam waited for him to speak again, not saying anything.
"I think he's in love with me." Tim said, finally, not sure what else he could say to explain the problem.
"And you're not in love with him?"
"I'm not gay." That seemed to be his pat answer to everything. He did not want to be gay, to give up all hope of having children or loving a woman.
He liked women. He liked the way they smelled and how they tasted and their various idiosyncracies. But he liked men too.
"And to be in love with him you'd have to be?" Good question.
"Wouldn't I?"
"If he were a woman, then what? Would it be okay? Would you be in love then?"
The question was asked in all seriousness and Tim considered it.
The answer should not have surprised him. If Chris were a woman, it would be okay. He'd be able to admit that he loved Chris and make a commitment. But to admit being in love with Chris would mean that he'd be committing himself to a man and there would be no more women. "I don't want to give up women."
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"Five months."
"And in that time, have you slept with anyone else?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Tim could see the implications. "No. But that's not the point. The potential was there."
"And if you commit to him, there's no more potential?" Did Adam have a note of amusement in his tone? This wasn't funny, not at all.
"Something like that." This was too weird a conversation. He was discussing one lover with a potential second. "We should get off this topic."
"Tim." Looking up, he met Adam's eyes. "Talk to me." He'd been wrong about the amusement. Adam's hand covered his comfortingly.
Sighing, Tim dropped his eyes, a tightness creeping into his chest. "I can't anymore. I don't know what to do, what to say."
"Do you love Chris?"
That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Did he? Probably. No one had ever treated him with half the reverence, half the tenderness that Chris had. He felt so valued when he was with Chris.
"Why are you asking? By all rights you should be discouraging me, not helping me work it through."
"Possibly. But getting you on the rebound doesn't speak well for a long-lasting relationship." Adam smiled a little sadly.
Definitely time to change the subject. "Who said I wanted you anyway?" He did, of course and he'd bet Adam knew it, too.
The tenor of Adam's smile changed from friendly to sexy in a heart-beat. "Just hoping. Do you?"
"Do I what?" Tim asked, suppressing a smile and playing dumb. Excitement started to hum along his nerves and down his spine.
"Do you want me?"
Nodding, Tim smiled. "Yeah, yeah I do." Practicality took over. A thousand issues flew to mind, AIDS heading the list and dampening his budding desire. "But sex with a stranger is a bad idea."
Adam understood the unspoken question. "I'm clean. No risk factors at all."
Well, that was nice to hear. "I don't know you, so how can I trust you?"
"That's what they made condoms for."
Tim wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I guess so, but I hate them. They always smell like wet tires."
Adam laughed. "I wouldn't know, never having smelt wet tires."
Something else occurred to Tim. "You didn't ask about me."
Raising and eyebrow, Adam smiled. "Well?"
"There's only been one man and he was clean. I was tested a few months ago and I was negative."
"You trusted the guy?"
"Yeah. I trusted him." God, that sounded sad. His trust in Chris had been shaken, but not broken. Tomorrow, he'd call Chris and let him apologize. He was hurt, but Chris had a right to be hurt, too.
And today, Adam had been balm on his frayed feelings, making him feel wanted again. He'd worked so hard to feel deserving of happiness after spending so much of his life feeling utterly worthless.
His partnering with Frank had been both a curse and a blessing. Frank's approval had meant so much to him over the years, but it had been doled out so sparingly. Any crumb of affection or praise from his partner had been treasured. As the years had gone on, the praise outweighed scorn, but it never seemed like it was enough.
Then last year, he'd finally found the strength to stand on his own, to take his life in his hands and not depend on anyone else for his self-worth. The biggest surprise had been that Frank had come to him, needing him. And he had been more than willing to give, but on his own terms. It was the beginning of his independence and self reliance. He'd felt powerful, knowing his own worth as murder police and as a man.
Frank's acceptance of their altered relationship somehow gave him the confidence to look at other things in his life. He'd started to deal with the after effects of the abuse he'd suffered at his uncle's hands. The hate he'd harbored for his father and uncle had eaten at his mind and heart like the most corrosive acid. Now, he had some measure of sympathy for his destitute uncle, although he still couldn't forgive his father for the betrayal of failing to protect him.
Would he ever completely resolve it? He had no idea, but he truly hoped so. Carrying around all that ugliness and bad feelings could not be good for him. Happiness was a state of mind he desperately wanted to achieve and it would never happen unless he purged the pus of the old wounds.
"Tim," Adam said, touching his arm and he jumped, startled out of his thoughts again.
"Hmm? What? Oh, sorry Adam, I was a million miles away." Tim took a deep breath to get his balance back. Thinking about his father and uncle was enough to make him insane. There were still issues he needed to resolve and he was working on it. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind, turning to look at his companion.
Adam gave him that smile again and Tim's heart started to race.
"I noticed. Listen, it's okay to call him back now, if you want." There was no guile in Adam's tone. Tim couldn't believe he really meant it, but he did. Adam was a better man than he.
"I think tomorrow is soon enough."
"And tonight?"
"Tonight is a moment out of time." Tim moved closer, sliding an arm around Adam's shoulders and leaning in to kiss the parted mouth.
Adam's mouth slid across his, softly, slowly, his tongue moist and warm, mapping Tim's mouth throughly. When Adam's tongue retreated, Tim followed, exploring the wet surface. Pizza and beer evident on his lips, Tim feasted a second time on the delights.
God, he loved to kiss, loved molding his mouth to the soft surface of someone else's, loved the taste of beer on his lover's lips, loved the hazy pleasure that swept thought him at the first touch.
Adam's hand slid into his hair, stroking softly. Leaning into the touch, Tim sighed against the parted mouth.
Arousal came immediate and sure, picking up his pulse, sending blood coursing thought his body until it pooled in his cock. Shifting slightly, Tim spread his long legs comfortably. He kissed Adam again, wanting to taste the silken depth of his mouth with as much thoroughness as he could muster.
Adam's hand moved slowly down his back and then around to the front of his shirt. Pulling off his loosened tie and starting on his shirt buttons, Adam's fingers lightly caressed his bared skin, while the talented mouth ventured down his chin to the underside of his jaw.
Arching his neck back, he gave Adam as much room to maneuver as possible. Shudders racked his body at the touch of Adam's moist tongue on the sensitive skin below his left ear. He could not get enough of Adam's lips on his neck. His head fell back all the way and a deep moan came from his chest.
Short of breath already, Tim became frantic as Adam's mouth continued to work on his flesh, sensations drowning him. How could he survive this incredible torture?
Grappling with the bottom of Adam's over large sweater, he tried to pull it over the other man's head. But Adam refused to cooperate, unwilling to remove his mouth from where it had attached itself.
"Adam....," Tim complained, pulling on the sweater again. Relenting, Adam lifted his head and then his arms to allow Tim to remove the offending garment. Before Adam could return to his task, Tim whisked his t-shirt off, too.
Pale skin, stretched tightly over well-defined musculature. Tim's breath caught at the sheer physical beauty before him. Reaching out with unsteady fingers, he brushed lightly along the velvet over steel surface.
"God, you're so beautiful," Tim murmured, lowering his head to kiss Adam's neck. Beneath his mouth, the other man began to tremble as need increased.
Before things could get out of control again, Tim stood, taking Adam with him. Slipping his arms around Adam, he leaned in to kiss him again.
Wrapping his arms tight around Tim, Adam leaned in, opening his mouth for another lush kiss.
The bliss of kissing diverting him, Tim was more than ready to lie back down on the sofa and let nature takes its course in the confined space, but he wanted this to be perfect. Something told him he would not get another chance.
"Bedroom?" Tim gasped as Adam's mouth slid over his right nipple, then came back for a longer taste. All thoughts of moving locations fled from his mind as the lovely mouth attached itself to the tender bud, starting to suck hard.
Pleasure roared thought, closing down his mind completely as sensual abandon took over. Nothing else in the world mattered except the lips on his flesh and the ecstasy singing through his veins.
Arching forward, he begged silently for more. But after too short a time, Adam lifted his head, eyes nearly closed with passion. "Mmmm?"
Tim shook off the haze for a second, needing to know why the pleasure had stopped and how to get it back. "What?"
"You said something about the bedroom?"
Right. Taking Adam's hand, he silently led the other man down the hall to his bedroom. At least the sheets were relatively clean and he'd made the bed this morning. Not that it mattered, nothing mattered except getting Adam into his bed and keeping him there for a while.
Standing side by side, Tim leaned down and kissed Adam again. He pulled the other man closer, holding on tightly.
After another kiss or two, his knees refused to support him, starting to buckle under the sensual assault. Before he could collapse completely, he heeled off his shoes and slid out of his suit trousers and briefs.
Sitting down, he took Adam by the hips, pulling him forward, enfolding the smaller man into his arms, and breathing deeply against Adam's belly. God, he smelled so good, musky and clean with just a hint of aftershave. Tim knew he'd never forget this scent.
Quickly kissing the wash-board flat belly, he undid the jeans, pushing them off the narrow hips along with the boxers. Adam was slender and graceful clothed; but naked, he was magnificent.
"You're amazing," Tim said, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. Adam's clothes hid far too much.
"So are you. Lie back. Let me look at you." Adam smiled at him, giving him a little push.
Nervously, Tim lounged back, allowing Adam to look his fill and waiting for the verdict on his body. Too many lovers had found him wanting.
He really should work out more or take up running or do something to put some muscle on his too tall, too thin fame. But there never seemed to be any time for that sort of thing. The only time he really thought about it was when he was in this position and then it was too late.
A little noise from Adam made him look up. The lustful appreciation in Adam's eyes filled Tim's heart with joy. There was only one other person in the world who looked at him like that. A moment's pang struck him as a stray thought of Chris formed in his mind. Pushing it away, he'd deal with Chris tomorrow, tonight there would only be Adam.
Instinctively, he understood there would be no other nights with Adam, only tonight. So he'd take what he'd been given as a gift. His heart would break if he let himself dwell on what might have been.
"You are so very beautiful, Tim," Adam whispered, sliding into bed next to him putting his strong arms around Tim. "Haven't enough people told you that for you to believe it?"
Not knowing what to say, he shook his head, lowering his eyes, embarrassed by the tears filling his eyes at Adam's sweet words.
"What's wrong?" Adam's calloused hand touched his face, cupping his jaw. "You're a special man, Tim. Believe it."
Tim shook his head, he'd never be able to explain why tenderness always moved him. He'd had so very little of it in his life, and he craved it so desperately.
Kissing him again, Adam plundered his mouth, learning whatever secrets he had left. With a groan of surrender, Tim gave himself up to the heated kisses, losing himself in their sweetness. It felt so good to be kissed and held tenderly. He'd never, ever get enough to take it for granted.
Adam's mouth and hands seemed on a quest to evoke as much pleasure as possible from his body. Not in any hurry, they lingered for a long time on his sensitive nipples, biting and sucking until Tim was crazed with need.
Slowly, Adam worked his way down Tim's long body to his hips. Pushing his legs wide apart, Adam started a full scale assault on the tender insides of his thighs.
Groaning and twisting against the heated kisses, he could not think. All he could do was ride out the torment, and beg for more.
With his mind misty with seemingly endless pleasure, Tim was only barely aware that he'd been turned onto his belly. The kisses along his spine sent wave after wave of delight through out his sweating, aroused body.
As his ass cheeks were parted, some part of his mind knew what he was being prepared for, but before he could mount a defense, soft knowing lips touched him where no one ever had before.
"OhMyGodOhMyGod!!" Tim screamed with the intensity of the sensations pouring through every nerve ending in his body, overloading his senses.
Adam's tongue tortured him continually. A saliva wet finger took turns with the tongue stabbing in and out of him. He was going to die from this. No one could survive this much intense pleasure.
Two slick fingers worked their way into him, touching something that sent off shock waves with every single movement. Gasping for air, he tired to ride out the uproar of his senses, but he'd never felt anything like this and surrender was the only option. Glorying in his submission, he yielded everything.
Somehow he ended up on his knees, being pierced by Adam's big cock, burying itself halfway into him before he could grasp what had happened. Bright burning along the nerve endings of his stretched open anus, invaded his pleasure fogged senses. Before the pain could displace the pleasure, Adam's slick hand reached around and started to pump his cock.
The pain faded as the joy built again. Soon, he was reaching for the stars with both hands. Sensations escalated one on top of another until it finally broke over him. The stratosphere beckoned and Tim soared there, exploding like a sun going supernova. Then floating back down to the earth slowly, gently, like a rose petal, falling gracefully to the ground on a sunny day.
Methos shifted off of his lover carefully, pulling out as gently as he could. Tim still groaned softly as he left the hot body. Pulling off the required condom, he dropped it on the floor with a sigh. There were some things about this age that downright sucked, and AIDS and condoms were among the top two.
Snuggling down next to Tim, Methos kissed him softly, enjoying the feel of the big body wrapped around him.
"You didn't ask," Tim murmured, nuzzling his neck with soft lips.
"Ask what?" What had he forgotten? Methos had no idea. He'd wanted to give Tim as beautiful an experience as he could, sensing that his lover would enjoy being made love to in a slightly more commanding manner. And he'd been right, Tim had surrendered completely to his ministrations.
"If it was okay."
Bewilderment hit him. He'd pleased Tim, he knew he had. His lover had screamed in ecstasy, not once, but twice, during the proceedings. Methos never doubted his skills in pleasing a partner-- he'd been too well trained to fail at that. "I know you enjoyed it."
"No, before, when you ... fucked me."
Oh, no, he'd assumed Tim had done this before, not that he could have been more gentle or caring. Still, Tim hadn't put up any resistance. Methos would have stopped at any time, had Tim shown the slightest fear or reluctance. "I thought if you'd had some objections, you'd have made them known."
"Like anyone could talk with you making love to them, like anyone could even think. I'm pretty experienced and I've never known anyone with that amount of sheer skill." There was no anger or rancor in Tim's words, just a wiry amusement.
Nice to hear the skills still held. Relaxing back, Methos saw Tim's problem. "Hey, it's not my fault if you were too busy to complain."
Tim raised up on his forearms to look right at Methos. "I wasn't going to anyway."
"Then, what's the problem?" Methos asked, sliding his finger through the tousled short hair.
Leaning into the touch, Tim nuzzled his hand. "Nothing."
"You hadn't done it before, had you?"
"No."
"I'm sorry. I should have thought to ask. But you've been dating a man for months, I just assumed..." Methos let his voice trail off.
"It's okay. I liked it." Tim's eyes dropped shyly.
"And you didn't expect to?"
"No, no I didn't think I'd hate it, just not love it, you know?"
"I think it has more to do with who you're doing it with than what you are doing."
"I'm way too tired for philosophy. Can we have this discussion in the morning?" Tim's eyes closed and he snuggled up to Methos.
Sighing, he held the sleeping man closer. There would be no discussions in the morning. He'd be gone by then.
As much as he wished it weren't so, it was time to leave Baltimore. And leaving would hurt a lot more than it would have two days ago. But of course, two days ago, there had been no reason to leave. Given half a chance, it would be so very easy to fall in love with Tim. And unless he missed his guess, Tim with him.
But it would never work, not over the long haul of Tim's life. The detective was too much a boy-scout, like MacLeod in so many ways. Maybe if Tim had four-hundred or so years, he might get to a point where he could accept the inevitability of the Game, or even Methos' past. But not in this lifetime.
So he'd do the right thing, for once, and leave this mortal to his already complicated life.
It was more than time to find MacLeod, anyway. First, he needed go back to Paris to find out what Joe knew about Mac's whereabouts. Then, he'd start his search.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Methos allowed the warmth of the sleeping body to heat his cold soul. Slowly he eased from the bed, making sure he didn't wake Tim. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, glancing back, smiling slightly at the sight of Tim, sprawled naked in the jumble of sheets and blankets on the bed. Tim looked sated and happy.
Tears stung his eyes for what might have been, taking a deep breath, Methos looked around for his clothes. He dressed quickly in the living room, and sat down for a moment, to take in the sights of Tim's life one last time.
Tim woke with a start, disappointed to find himself alone, the other side of the bed cold. Turning over, he knew he needed to get up and use the bathroom before he could go to sleep again. His ass throbbed as he sat up, reminding him of what he'd let Adam do earlier this evening. Why had this been different? Why Adam and not Chris?
Pushing himself upright, he had no answer. But he did know that he'd been so drunk on the pleasure of Adam's mouth and hands that he hadn't known what was going on until Adam was inside him. And then it hadn't mattered, the pleasure turned out to be unlike any he'd ever known before. It had overtaken him and he went down willingly.
Acceptance of being fucked was not as hard as he thought it would be. He could live with it now, with what he was.
And Chris? Well, he was still hurt, but he would call him today and they would talk. Somehow, things seemed better instead of worse in this early morning.
Coming out of the bathroom, he glanced into the living room surprised to find Adam sitting fully dressed on his couch, staring into space.
"Hey. I thought you'd left." Tim said, sitting down next to him.
Adam looked up, startled. "I meant to. I don't want to complicate you life."
Tim laughed. "You can't make it any worse than it is."
"Still, I'm not good for you."
"Maybe not, but..."
"But what?"
"I don't want you to leave. I'd like to get to know you."
Adam shook his head, his green-gold eyes shining sadly in the yellow lamp light. "No. It wouldn't be a good idea."
"But..." Tim trailed off, not wanting to sound desperate, and trying to remind himself of Chris. It was only partially successful.
"It's better this way."
"For who? I think there's something between us. Something really nice."
"Perhaps. But what about Chris?"
Adam would bring that up. Tim dropped his eyes, embarrassed. But one thing didn't necessarily preclude the other. "I don't want you to go."
"I can't do anything else." Adam sighed, shaking his head.
Tim watched him stand and retrieve his coat from the chair.
"I'm sorry, Tim, "Adam whispered, his eyes bright. "I have to go.
Nodding, Tim swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Okay."
Pulled into a hard embrace, his mouth was ravaged for a moment. Then the kiss gentled and lingered. But Adam stepped back, opening the door and was gone.
Tim stood staring at the door for a moment. Sighing, he padded back to bed, throwing himself down into the soiled sheets, drinking in the smell of Adam, knowing he'd never taste or smell it again.
--finis
September 1998