Work Text:
Chris Rawls let himself into Tim Bayliss' Fells Point apartment, just before seven in the morning. Even knowing that it was a mistake to come here, he couldn't force himself to stay away. After he'd left a message on Tim's answering machine last night, and his lover had not returned his call, a awful fear had settled into his heart. What if Tim never called him back? He lay awake the entire night, tossing and turning.
Tim wasn't the type to play games, which meant that he'd been badly hurt by their fight. If he was going to lose Tim over what happened the other night, then he'd rather know it now. Maybe he'd be able to get on with his life.
It was his own damned fault, pushing Tim too hard had angered his lover. He should have been grateful that Tim was able to get past so many of the sexual issues already plaguing him. Still, the man flirting with Tim two nights ago had forcibly brought home to Chris how little there was in the way of a commitment between himself and Tim. Being in love with Tim, he wanted to declare his love to the world, and have Tim do the same. Unfortunately, Tim didn't feel the same way.
Coming into the living room, Chris saw a half-eaten pizza on the floor and Tim's tie hanging off the end of the coffee table. He was starting to have a bad feeling about coming here unannounced.
Following the trail of abandoned clothes to Tim's room, Chris stood in the doorway, surveying his lover, lying naked amid the ruin of the bed.
Something sharp pierced into his heart. Quite obviously, Tim hadn't slept alone. The room reeked of sex. A condom lay discarded, its contents leaking out onto the floor. Had Tim used it or had someone else?
Tim turned over as if sensing he was being watched. Opening sleepy eyes, Tim focused on him, sighing audibly. "I would have called you today."
Chris nodded, not trusting his voice.
Sitting up in bed, Tim winced and shifted slightly, giving Chris a rueful look and a shrug. That answered who had used the condom. It shouldn't have surprised him how badly it hurt to find out that Tim had given himself to someone else, but it did.
"I'm sorry," Chris said, his voice an agonized whisper. "I shouldn't have interrupted."
Rubbing a hand over his face, Tim sighed again. "He's gone."
The lump invading his throat started to strangle him, and he took a deep breath to try to relieve the pressure. Looking one last time at the beautiful man with whom he'd fallen so helplessly in love with, he turned around, bolting from the room, praying all the while that he'd make it out of the apartment before tears overtook him. Letting Tim see him cry would be far too humiliating for Chris to bear.
He didn't get very far. Tim was out of the bed and by his side before he got out of the hall.
"Where are you going?" Tim demanded, putting both hands on his shoulders and turning him around, pinning him to the wall.
"I won't stay where I'm not wanted." Chris was appalled that his voice cracked and by the tears starting to spill from his eyes. He tried to move his head away, but Tim's long fingers gripped his chin, forcing him to look at his lover.
"Chris, what are you talking about?" Tim's voice was low, his face bewildered.
How could he possibly not understand? "You spent last night with someone else."
Tim looked down, embarrassment clear. "We never even talked about being exclusive."
"You never let me bring it up." He hadn't so much as thought about someone else since he'd first met Tim.
"No, I didn't. I wasn't ready for that." Tim still wouldn't meet his eyes.
Taking a shuddering breath, he tried desperately to hold onto his control. This was the problem from the beginning. It was hopeless. Pushing against Tim, he found he could not move the bigger man. Because he was so gentle, a person could forget just how big Tim was physically. "Let me go."
A hand settled on his jaw forcing him to look right at Tim. The light brown eyes were serious and pleading. "Listen to me, last night had nothing to do with you."
Chris laughed bitterly. Just like Tim to say something like that. As if being unfaithful had nothing to do with him. Maybe they hadn't talked about being exclusive, but it still hurt horribly to find out that Tim had slept with someone else. "How can you say that? You let him fuck you!"
Tim's eyes dropped again. "He didn't ask, he just did it."
Oh God, please don't be saying what it sounded like he was saying. "He raped you?"
Shaking his head, Tim looked up sharply, horror in his eyes. "No! No, not at all. He just didn't ask permission."
"Oh." Just what could he say to that? As mad as he was at Tim for sleeping with someone else, he'd rather have his lover enjoying what he'd done than be forced to it or having it hurt.
"He got me going so much that I didn't know what he was doing until he did it." Tim sounded chagrined, a small self-deprecating smile touching the soft lips.
"Great." Pushing forward again, Tim stepped back, letting him move away from the wall. "I guess that means you enjoyed it?"
Tim nodded. "I loved it. More than I ever thought I would."
"Didn't it make you feel more gay? I know how much the whole issue bothers you." Even though he tried to control it, the bitterness in his voice was profound. He hated the thought that someone else had touched Tim. It might not matter so much if he and Tim had even the remotest concept of a commitment between them. But Tim wanted to keep things light, and Chris' feelings didn't allow that.
Shaking his head, Tim's lips twitched. "You know, I thought it would have, but I'm still me. And I still loved it." He shrugged. "Listen, Chris, I know I've been difficult and I'm probably to stay that way until I work this out. I just hope you'll let me have some time."
"Do you even want to work it out?" That was the big question now, wasn't it? Did Tim care enough about him as anything other than a convenient fuck? Wanting desperately to believe in Tim's magic, he'd seen little to convince him that his lover was serious about him or their relationship.
"Of course, I want to work it out. How can you even ask me that?" The hurt was easy to read in Tim's expressive eyes. Chris felt a pang. Maybe Tim was trying.
In the background, he heard Tim's alarm clock go off.
"I have to go to work. I took yesterday afternoon off, kinda without telling anyone either. A sheepish smile lit Tim's face. "I need to get into the shower."
And how I wish I could go with you, Chris thought as he nodded silently, taking in Tim standing there in all his naked glory. Damn, the man was beautiful. Tall, lean, the memory of the taste of that pale flesh intruded on his mind, and he tried to push it away. "Go."
Tim hesitated, still looking straight at him. "Will you be here when I get out?"
Chris nodded again. "Yes." Where else would he go?
As Tim padded down the hall, he gave Chris a lovely view of his long naked back and buttocks. Sighing softly, Chris moved to sit down on the sofa.
Maybe he should just leave, forget this whole crazy affair. Why on earth was he involved with a straight man in the first place? Well, not exactly straight, but not really gay either. He should stick to others of his own kind. If only Tim wasn't so damned cute, or affectionate or sincere or, or, or....
The shower stopped, Tim appeared again, wearing a blue bathrobe. "I could hear you sigh from the hall."
"You drive me crazy."
Tim dropped his eyes. "Why do you stay with me then?"
His heart nearly broke at the look, but he tried to make his answer sound casual. "I can't seem to do otherwise. I tried to stop seeing you two nights ago and my resolve lasted for less than twenty-four hours." That was another problem and Chris knew it. He'd been unable to stay away from Tim for any length of time. If they could not make this work, he'd be devastated, but he knew he'd get over it in time. His biggest fear was that the agony would drag on forever.
"We need to talk about that." Tim tone turned cool as he went into the kitchen. Pulling an orange juice carton from the refrigerator, he took several long gulps.
Leaning into the opening between the kitchen and the living room, Chris watched Tim's long throat move with utter fascination. Why did everything about this man intrigue him? He shook the thought away unconsidered. "I know we need to talk. When?"
Putting the juice back, Tim closed the fridge door and looked at him. "Tonight. I'll come by the Zodiac after work, but let's eat somewhere else."
Chris forced a small smile. "Neutral ground?"
"Somewhere we can talk without being interrupted." Tim came out of the kitchen, facing him across the small distance of the dinning room.
"Should I bring dinner, we can eat here?" He absently dragged a finger across the flat surface of the table. No dust here, that was for sure. Tim was the neatest man he'd ever met.
"No. I've got to go in a minute and I won't have time to change the sheets."
Anger seared his guts. How dare Tim know him that well. "That's presuming a fuck of a lot."
Tim shook his head, his eyes meeting Chris'. "No. It's not."
"My place?" Chris asked, suppressing a sigh.
"About 7:30 or 8:00?"
"Fine."
Chris stood. "I need to go."
"And I need to get dressed and try and make it to work on time."
He gave Tim a long look, wondering if he could get away with a small touch, but decided he could not. Nodding once, Chris started for the door, hoping he didn't look as dejected as he felt.
Tim intercepted him with a hand on his biceps. "Wait."
"What?"
Leaning down, Tim kissed him gently. His heart melted right thought his chest and onto the floor. God, how he loved Tim. And Tim knew it. A gentle caress on his cheek followed the kiss, but Chris couldn't speak yet. He gripped Tim's forearm once, tightly, and then fled.
Tim sat at his desk, trying to pour enough coffee down his throat to be moderately alert. Although he hadn't let it show, Chris had annoyed him by showing up at his house this morning unannounced. He'd wanted a few more moments to savor Adam Pierson's presence before having to deal with Chris. And more than that, he needed some time to think about what he really wanted to do with their relationship.
Last night had been glorious. And he did not regret his stolen moments with the history professor. He had a passing thought to try and find Adam, but knew that it would not be fair to Chris. As beautiful as last night had been, Adam had made it clear that was all there could ever be. Tim couldn't argue with that. His life was complicated enough without adding a second lover to the mix.
Still, there had been something special between him and Adam. Maybe he could call, just to keep in touch. Even as he formed the thought, he knew it would be wrong to two-time Chris. Whether or not he would actually do it, that remained to be seen.
In all fairness to Chris, his lover had some right to expect Tim to at least try and work out their problems. Yesterday not withstanding, Tim cared deeply for Chris, more than he ever expected or perhaps wanted to. And that had become part of the problem. To have a relationship with Chris meant that he would have to give up many other things that he really wanted.
But it was unfair to Chris to string him along. His lover had been far too understanding with him already. Tim appreciated how good Chris had been to him, wishing he could return the kindness, but not sure even how to start. He sighed, trying to concentrate.
"Timmy," John Munch called as he came into the squad room, sitting down at the chair next to his desk.
Damn. What was the problem now? Tim wasn't sure he could deal with anything else this morning. His head was starting to pound from lack of sleep and too much stress.
"What?" Tim snapped, not caring that he was being rude. Opening the draws of his desk, he searched for a bottle of aspirins.
"Now is that any way to greet a colleague?" Munch pouted reproachfully, his eyes still smiling.
"What do you want?" Tim wasn't in the mood for anyone's antics this morning, but especially not Munch's. Finally finding the plastic bottle, Tim popped three pills into his mouth, washing it down with his cold coffee. Aspirins and coffee did not go well together, but he was desperate enough not to care.
"Hey, are you okay?" Munch asked, dropping the camp for a moment, genuine concern in his voice.
Tim bit his dry lips, raising a hand to his temple and rubbing hard. "Yeah, sorry. I just didn't get much sleep last night."
"Where were you yesterday afternoon?" Frank asked scathingly, as he sat down at his desk across the room.
Turning to look at Frank, Tim shrugged. He was not up for Frank, either. "Does it matter?"
"I had a case and you were gone. Again." His partner could do reproachful like no one else, just the right amount of censure in the brown eyes to let him know he'd been bad again.
"I was busy." He wasn't going to tell Frank about his afternoon, walking around, and talking with a man he'd just met. The reaction to that one didn't bear thinking about.
"Oh, I see." Frank turned his back. At least his partner wasn't going to try and extract the information from him. He would not be much of an opponent this morning.
Tim sighed, looking back to Munch. "What did you want?" There was no sharpness left in his tone, only resignation.
"I need someone to take my shift at the bar tonight."
"Why?"
"I've got a date." A huge smile covered Munch's usually dour face. It must be with someone special. Tim bit back a smile. The pain in his head had started to ease a little.
Still, he could not help a little dig. "First one in twenty years?"
"I'm hurt you could say such a thing." Munch put his thin hand on his chest. "It's only been ten years, I'll have you know."
Despite himself, Tim laughed. No one did self-deprecating quite like Munch. "Sure. I have no special plans." He would have to call Chris and cancel. For him it was just as well since he wasn't ready to discuss their problems yet, anyway.
"Thanks, Tim."
"You owe me." There was going to be hell to pay for standing Chris up, but he needed just a little more time to think about what to do. Chris really deserved better from him. There was no question that he should let Chris go until he worked out what he really wanted in life. But he just couldn't quite make the break. As much as having Chris dump him had hurt, he didn't really blame Chris for trying.
"Yeah, yeah." Munch waved his hand as he ambled over to his own desk.
Before he could turn back to his own desk to call Chris, Frank stood, capturing his attention.
"Come on, Tim. We're up."
Tim sighed. At least there wasn't going to be time to brood over things.
"You talk to Pembleton."
"Not about everything"
He could still hear Laura Ballard's words from last night and his reply. It haunted him all morning. If yesterday and the whole Remington Hill affair had taught him anything, it was that secrets could only hurt people. Having Frank know the truth about his relationship with Chris was too important to let it slide any longer. Frank was his best friend as well as his partner. There shouldn't be any more secrets between them.
He hadn't been honest with Frank about his ongoing relationship with Chris, letting his partner think the relationship was casual. It wasn't a lie exactly, just an omission of the truth, but he still felt he needed to talk about it before any more time past.
Catching up to Frank as he was leaving, Tim waved him down on the steps outside the station.
"Frank, wait, there's something I need to talk to you about."
Pembleton halted, waiting for Tim to come down the steps. "What now?" Why did Frank always have that faintly annoyed tone whenever Tim addressed him about anything that wasn't work related? It wasn't that his partner didn't care. He did and Tim knew it, but Frank sometimes had a damned hard time expressing the sentiment.
Thinking of his treatment of Chris lately, he knew he wasn't much better than Frank. While he knew how Frank felt about him, Chris could not be sure of how he felt.
"Let's walk, okay?" Tim nodded back towards the pier. They seemed to have a number of substantive conversations out there. It was quiet and relatively private.
Frank followed him out silently, his attitude nothing more than curious. They found an unoccupied bench near the water, and sat down.
Turning those all seeing brown eyes onto him, Frank waited for him to start. Tim shifted uncomfortably under Frank's intense gaze.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and trying to calm his fear of his partner's reaction to this. "I need to tell you something..."
Saying nothing, Frank waited for him to go on.
"I'm still seeing Chris Rawls -- or I was up until two days ago." A breath of relief escaped his lungs in a rush. It felt good to get that out at last.
Nodding almost solemnly, Frank looked to be waiting for more. "That's it?" he asked when the silence stretched to thin.
"Isn't it enough?"
"With the build up, Bayliss, I was expecting some great revelation." Exasperation permeated Frank's dry tone. "This is old news." Trust Frank to be unimpressed with his revelations.
"I just wanted you to know I was still seeing him."
"You were worried about my reaction?"
Tim nodded. "Well, you were pretty freaked-out when I started to date him. I just thought..."
"You thought wrong. If you're happy Tim, I'm happy."
"Then why were you so bothered when I started to see him? I've been afraid to mention I'm still seeing him."
"I wasn't sure you knew what you were getting into." There was genuine concern in Frank's tone and it warmed the corners of Tim's heart.
Then he realized what Frank had just said. "Are you saying you think I'm naive?"
Smiling ruefully, Frank nodded his head. "With a capital 'N'."
Annoyance jumped in his guts. "I'm an adult. Give me a little credit. I'm not naive."
Frank shook his head again in that nearly condescending way he had that drove Tim nuts. He wanted to stamp his foot and scream at his partner, but that was hardly an adult reaction. Damn, but Frank could be a pain in the ass.
"Why tell me this now?" Frank asked, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer.
"I don't want any more secrets between me and my friends."
"There are always secrets. It's the way of the world. Get used to it."
"Secrets aren't good, for anyone."
"You're still thinking about Remington Hill."
"It's hard not to."
"Just as long as you don't expect me to tell you any of my secrets."
That hurt. But he should be used to it by now, Frank's aim when he was annoyed was deadly. "Of course not, why would you tell me anything?" Tim stood, turning to go.
Frank put a hand on his arm. "Tim, wait. What's really wrong?"
May as well tell him all of it, Tim decided. "Chris dumped me a couple of days ago and now he wants me back."
Sighing, he pulled slightly on Tim's arm indicating he should sit back down. "Do you still want to be with him?"
"Yeah." Unwelcome tears started to fill his eyes and he blinked them back. God, he hated how emotional he was, why couldn't he control it better?" "But, you know, he hurt me."
"Why did he dump you?"
Tim told him about the incident outside the restaurant. "I have some issues about being bisexual."
A boat whistle shrieked in the harbor and both he and Frank turned to look. "So it would seem. But it does also seem like he has strong feelings for you."
"I don't want to be gay," he said, plaintively, not looking at Frank.
"If it's what you are, it will only hurt you to deny it," Frank said, mildly, shaking his head.
A sob stuck in his throat. "I still like women. I'm still attracted to them. I had dinner with Ballard last night."
Franks eyebrow rose and a small smile touched his lips. "And?"
"And I really enjoyed her company. I'm really attracted to her."
"But?"
"But the whole time I was with her, I was thinking about the fact that I'd told Chris I couldn't meet him because I had to work at the bar. In between, I was imaging her sitting there naked. And I was also thinking about making love to Chris."
Frank laughed, but not unkindly. "You're a mess."
"Thanks, Frank. You're so helpful." Tim couldn't keep the slight annoyance out of his tone. He knew his partner wasn't trying to belittle him, just making a point.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Some advice would not be unwelcome." God, why was he asking Frank for advice? Because he was at his wits' end, that's why. He needed someone to give him a clue. And who better than Frank?
But Frank shrugged helplessly. "Tim, this is way out of my experience."
"Pretend it is two women."
"It's still too far from my experience."
"How can it be out of your experience? You've dated women."
"Dammit, Tim, this may come as a shock to you, but I haven't had that many women in my life."
Frank was right, it was a shock. He never really thought about it, but if he had, he'd assumed before Frank was married he would have at least dated actively with all that implied. The shock must have shown on his face.
Frank sighed. "Tim, I'm 36. I've been married for 12 years. I only had one other serious relationship before Mary."
Tim nodded, trying to absorb that bit of information.
Frank put his hand on top of Tim's. "I really don't know what you should do. Do you want to pursue the relationship with Ballard?"
"I can't. Eventually, probably soon, I'll go back to Chris and try to work it out."
"You care that deeply for him?" Frank leaned back on the bench, his eyes meeting Tim's, but there was no censure in them, just a visible caring.
Tim shook his head. "I'm not in love with him."
Holding up a hand, his partner ticked off his fingers. "Let me get this straight, you're attracted to Ballard, but you won't go out with her, even though you've broken up with Rawls because you think you're going to get back together with him. It sounds to me like you do have strong feelings for him."
This was not what he wanted to hear right now. As long as he could deny he was in love with Chris, he could pretend he had a choice about what was going to happen in his life. Being in love with Chris would mean a lot of sacrifice on his part. He didn't want to think about not having children.
"I still want children," Tim whispered, desperately.
"It's not totally impossible." Frank's voice was tentative, like he wasn't sure what he was saying was true.
"Not very likely."
"No."
"I don't know."
Frank nodded, standing up and stretching. "I've got to go. Mary will wonder where I am."
Tim remained seated, admiring the lines of Frank's body before he pulled his mind back to the subject at hand.
Putting his hand on Tim's shoulder, Frank gave him a quick squeeze before walking away.
Tim sighed. He needed to get going. He was supposed to be at Chris' soon so they could hash this out. But he still had no answers. The thought of never seeing Chris again cut deep, but so did the thought of not having children. Where would the compromise come from?
Wanting to reconcile his wayward thoughts, he found no peace. His thoughts went round and round coming up with nothing of any value. The sky started to darken and he pushed himself off the bench, heading for his car. His shoulders slumped as low as his spirits. He was so damned tired.
At least Frank had taken the news about his relationship well. Very well, in fact, he'd been down right supportive. Stopping at the end of the pier, Tim looked back at the bench. He'd needed someone to talk to and his partner had been there for him. Nothing had been solved, but it had been so nice just have someone who listened and cared.
God, he loved Frank.
Tim moved towards his car. He didn't want to add to his problems by thinking about his unrequited feelings for Frank Pembleton. He'd learned to live with the small pain, trying really hard not to think about it too much. There was no way he'd ever act on it, ever mention it, ever allude to it in any way. Whether Frank returned his feelings or not didn't even enter into it. The love and respect he had for Frank's family was too great to ever acknowledge what might or might not be between them.
Chris owned a row-house in the Mount Vernon section of Baltimore. Nicely decorated in tans and browns with big comfortable furniture, Tim had been surprised at how masculine and messy the place was the first time he'd been there. What he had expected, he had no idea, but not this.
The over-sized, rust colored, suede sofa lulled him into a semi-conscious state as he waited for Chris to finish preparing dinner. He and his lover had barely exchanged half-a-dozen words when he'd arrived.
Tim was pretty sure Chris was annoyed about his being late again. Rush-hour traffic and his conversation with Frank had conspired against him, but sometimes there was no explaining anything.
His lover came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel which he dropped on the back of a dinning room chair as he went by. Chris was not a tidy person. He was forever dumping things all over the place; it drove Tim crazy.
Tim liked a lot of order in his life. He wished he could impose it on his lover, but so far, all attempts had met with minimal results.
Chris stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for him to start. Tim didn't know what to say.
He sighed. Start with something small. "Look, I'm sorry about last night, I had to work at the bar."
"So you said."
"And you don't believe me?" Fuck. He felt guilty enough about having dinner with Ballard as it was.
"I didn't say that," Chris snapped, his green eyes flashing in annoyance.
"Then what?"
"It just seemed damned convenient to me."
Looking up at Chris like that was starting to get to him, he really wished Chris would just sit down. "I own the place, dammit. I have a responsibility to it. Surely you understand that." He hadn't asked to do it last night, but he hadn't put up any fuss when Munch asked him to take over. Still, he should be honest about why he'd ditched last night. "Chris, I just thought we needed a little more time to think about things."
Chris just looked at him.
"Okay. I needed a little more time."
"Fine." Chris crossed the room to look out the window, his back to Tim.
"Chris, let's not fight again. I came over here to talk, to see if we can work this out. But if you're going to fight with me, maybe we really should call it quits." Tim didn't want to, he really didn't. He wanted Chris in his life, but not if they were going to continue hurt each other.
Turning back, a rueful smile on his full lips, Chris blew out a breath. "I already tried that once and it didn't work."
"Do you want to try again?" Tim asked, annoyance starting to edge into his mind and heart.
Dropping his eyes, Chris shook his head. "No. I don't want to lose you."
Tim took a deep breath. "I know I've been difficult. I'm trying to adjust to a different way of looking at myself."
"I've tried to be patient with you, but you pull me close and then in the next breath push me away. And two nights ago, you slept with someone else. I could have understood if was a woman, but another man? A pickup?" Chris' voice broke as the words rushed out. Visibly, fighting back the emotions, Chris sniffled once and then met Tim's eyes reproachfully.
Dropping his eyes, Tim wanted to hide from the hurt gaze. "It wasn't planned."
"Pickups usually aren't."
Adam was not really a pick-up. Well, technically he had been, but Tim didn't think of their encounter as something sordid or sleazy. It had been a wonderful interlude, sort of time out of time and he'd needed that so badly. He had nothing but good memories of Adam and felt the need to defend him. "He was actually a little more than a pickup."
"Great. That's just what I wanted to hear." All the muscles in Chris' body stiffened and the hurt bled off him in waves.
"Would you rather it was someone I picked up in a bar, a meaningless encounter?"
"I'd rather it had not happened at all."
"It did." He had no idea what to say beyond that. He didn't regret spending the night with Adam. The encounter had been too sweet for that. But he did feel awful that he'd hurt his lover so badly, knowing only too well how he'd feel if the situation was reversed.
They had no commitment, no pledge of fidelity between them, but he Chris' feelings of betrayal were not out of line. That Adam had really meant something to Tim, probably made matters all the worse.
Instead of yelling or getting angry as Tim expected, Chris sighed wearily. "I know."
"Why are we hurting each other?" Tim asked, almost rhetorically.
Chris took it the wrong way. "I guess this is it, then. Are we going to split up for good?" The sad resignation in Chris' tired voice tore into Tim. And Chris just stood there waiting for an answer.
Seeing the fathomless hurt in his lover's clear green eyes, Tim felt a big lump creep into his throat. He didn't want to lose Chris, but he needed time to work out where their relationship might go, where he wanted it to go. "No, Chris, I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you. But I can't make the kind of commitment you want. Not now, anyway. I need time to work it out in my head."
The buzzer from the stove went off and Chris walked out of the room without a word. Coming back a few moments later, he sat down next to Tim. "Dinner's ready. Do you want to eat?"
To say he wasn't hungry would be an understatement. He could never eat when he was upset and right now he was close to nauseous. "No. Will it hold for a while? Let's finish discussing this."
Chris nodded absently. "Tell me how much time you need to work this out."
"I don't know." Tim shrugged, why was Chris trying so hard to pin him down. He knew it would take a little time and thinking, but he couldn't put a time limit on it. "However long it takes me to think this through, that's how long it takes."
His lover didn't seem to have any patience for that answer. "A week, a month, a year? Ten years? How long am I supposed to wait for you to make up your mind."
Outraged by the pushing, and Chris' whole attitude, Tim's temper snapped. Standing and looming over his lover, he exploded in all directions at once. "Fuck! Maybe this was easy for you. God knows, you had really supportive parents who gave you a stable environment to grow up in. I didn't have any of that, okay!" Tim's voice rose until he was yelling, all control gone. "You have no right to try and put time limits on me. You have no idea what it was like for me. I am still so fucked up by what happened, you have no idea. My father didn't give a fuck about me!" Taking deep breaths, he tried hard to calm his anger and failed miserably. He was shaking with rage, but not all of it was directed at Chris. It really wasn't all Chris' fault and even blind with rage, Tim knew that.
"Oh, Tim. Your father probably just couldn't show his emotions, I'm sure he loved you." Chris voice was a marvel of reason and calm.
Of course, Chris had no idea what he'd gone through, none. How could he, Tim hadn't told him any of it. And he should have, a long time ago. Could he do it now? He needed Chris to know. Tim whispered softly, "He was supposed to protect me and he didn't." His knees went out from under him, and he sank to the couch again. How had they gotten on this subject? It was really his least favorite of anything to talk about.
Kneeling beside him, Chris gently took his hands and spoke softly. "How didn't he protect you? What did he let happen?"
His chest hurt, a sob tried to escape his lungs, but he held it back by sheer force of will. He'd get this out and then get out of here, being alone seemed like a really good idea just now. "My uncle... he used to follow me... follow me into the bathroom..."
"I understand, you don't have to go on." Some part of his pain-fogged brain noticed Chris looked suitably horrified. The rest of him was trying valiantly to keep all the raging emotions on the inside so that he could continue.
"Yes. I have to say it." The events couldn't have providence over his life. He had to master them to get past them. And he would. Tim took another breath and forced the words out in an almost steady voice. "My uncle sexually molested me, from the time I was five until I got too big for him to easily control."
Another deep breath, the tears were forced back again. "When I was eight, I told my father and he didn't believe me." He got the words out, barely. Even after everything, after more or less coming to terms with his uncle, and telling Frank last year, it was still unbelievably painful to say the words of his father's betrayal out loud. The tears won out, and he started to cry.
Chris tried to pull him into his arms, but Tim pulled away. Wanting comfort, he still couldn't let anyone touch him after he talked about it. He felt dirty, used.
After letting him cry for a few moments, Chris moved in again, this time didn't let him pull away.
"Shhh," Chris murmured as he stroked up and down Tim's back, holding him tenderly.
When the pain eased enough for him to think again, he felt like an idiot. Why did he have to have such little control over his damned emotions? You'd think at thirty-seven he wouldn't cry at the drop of a hat anymore.
"Sorry." Mortally embarrassed, he couldn't look at Chris.
"It's okay." Pushing the bangs off Tim's forehead tenderly, Chris squeezed his shoulder before releasing him.
"No. It's not. I need to deal with that better. I can't keep having hysterics every time I mention it." Well, he hadn't really had hysterics when he'd told Frank, but he'd been so angry at his partner that night that his pride hadn't let him fall apart. When he'd gotten home, he'd cried himself to sleep.
"Why not? As I see it, those events were tremendously traumatic and probably affected you in ways you're still dealing with."
Something in the way Chris said the words, almost in a detached sort of way, made Tim pull back and look at him. "You said that like you know what you're talking about."
Chris dropped his eyes. "I do know what I'm talking about."
A cold chill went down Tim's spine. "How?"
"I've been meaning to mention this," Chris trailed off, still not meeting Tim's eyes.
Great, something else for him to deal with and right now, Tim wasn't sure there was much more he could deal with. "Just tell me." This seems to be the day, hell the week for secrets. Tim sniffed, his nose was running. He searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but found none. Chris finally handed him a napkin.
Sitting back down, Chris took his hand. "I was trained as a psychologist."
Relief mixed with surprise. He'd been truly afraid that Chris' might have more personal knowledge. They hadn't spent a lot of time discussing their pasts. Tim knew very little about where Chris was from or what he'd done before he'd opened his restaurant. All he really knew was that his father had been very supportive when Chris had come out to him.
"Why aren't you practicing?"
"I burned out on it after about five years."
"Why?"
"I couldn't keep an emotional distance between me and my patients. When I had two suicides in the same month, I gave it up. I was this close to a break-down myself." Chris held his fingers about a centimeter apart.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
Chris shrugged, a small smile playing about his full lips. "It really hasn't come up. I mean, how do I work a Ph.D. in psychology into the conversation?"
Tim shrugged. Chris had a point, but still he was a little hurt to have not known something that important. It really had been a week for secrets. "I hate secrets."
"I don't have any more. I promise." A small smile lit Chris' handsome face as he raised his fingers to caress Tim's cheek.
Tim nodded, leaning into the touch for just one second. "Me, either."
The hand fell away. "This still leaves us back at the beginning. Where do we go from here?"
Looking down, Tim traced the piping on the sofa with his finger. "I want to make a commitment to you, really I do. But I need some time. I need to work out in my own mind about being gay and never having children. I'm still very much attracted to women, too."
Chris smiled, sadly. "You really are bisexual, aren't you?"
He supposed that he was, because the thought of choosing one sex over another filled him with a terrible sadness. God, how did he get to be so confused? "Yeah, I think so. I can think about you naked one minute and get turned on by it. Then a minute later, I'll be thinking about Ballard and get just as turned on."
Sighing, Chris put his fingers under Tim's chin, raising his head up to meet the green eyes. "Who's Ballard?"
There was no accusation in the soft tone, only a tired resignation.
Tim answered honestly. "Laura Ballard. I work with her."
"Pretty?"
"Very, and smart and tough. Good murder police, too."
"Are you dating her, too?" The pain in the question was easy to hear.
Tim shook his head. "No. I wanted to and I think she's interested, even after last night when I told her about you."
"Last night?" Chris stood abruptly. "You saw her last night?" Harshly spoken, the words and the anger were so prevalent, Tim cringed before it.
"She was at the bar. But I had dinner with her." Before Chris could get any angrier, he hurried on, the words coming out in a rush as he tried to explain. "It was late. There was no one in the place and she was sitting alone. I just sat with her and we ate and talked."
Chris didn't look mollified. Not that he really blamed Chris, but the whole thing was innocent.
"It's the truth. I swear."
Nodding, Chris looked away for a moment and then back at him. "What are we going to do? Arguing is not getting us anywhere."
Tim agreed completely, but had no idea what they should do. He needed time to work his life out, and until he got it, they were doomed to this limbo of semi involvement. "No, it's not."
Putting his hand over Tim's, Chris squeezed tightly. "I don't want to lose you, Tim. I may not have said it before, but I think you know..."
Tim put his fingers over Chris' mouth, not letting him speak the words he was going to say. "Don't. I know how you feel," Tim said, not wanting to hear the words out loud, not now. He could not let Chris make a commitment, if he wasn't ready to return it. "Save them for later, okay?"
His eyes were very bright, but Chris nodded.
"I better go." He was too weary to think anymore. All he wanted was to go home and get some sleep.
Standing, he followed Chris to the door.
"We never ate." Not that he was really hungry.
Chris shrugged. "It's ruined now."
Without thinking too much about it, he pulled Chris into his arms and held him tightly, breathing in the subtle spicy scent of his lover. Pushing back, he kissed Chris quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?"
"Please."
Tim slipped though the door.
Alone in his own bed, Tim tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Pieces of too many conversations crept into his conscious mind, coming back to haunt him. Finally he drifted off near dawn, only to have the Adena Watson dream again.
Tim knocked back another shot of the golden liquid, hoping the scotch would numb his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, the Clara Sloane case had gotten to him. The reminder of Adena Watson had been too much for him -- just like every other murdered child did. Working the case to its conclusion hadn't helped as much as he'd hoped it would. He still felt jittery, out of sorts with the world, and didn't want to be alone right now.
Maybe he could call Frank, see if he'd let him come over and visit the kids; it had been a couple of weeks since he'd seen them and Frank Jr. was growing like a weed. With a deep sigh, he rejected the idea. Not that he really thought Frank would say no, on the contrary; he was sure that Frank would be fine with it. But he really needed to face the other reason he was looking for alternatives to staying home. He didn't want to think about Chris.
What was he going to do? Damn, he was so fucking confused. Why couldn't life be simple? It was as if God had decided that Tim Bayliss would not have an easy time of it and then made sure the dictate came true. So let it be written, so let it be done.
He cared so much about Chris, but being gay or bisexual precluded his having children and he wanted children really badly.
Pulling himself off his sofa, he stretched his back out. This was getting him nowhere, he needed to see Chris. Maybe if they just spent a little more time together something would work itself out. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Knocking on Chris' door, he still wasn't even sure what he would say, just that he didn't want to be alone and he really didn't want to fight. Chris' face was a study in surprise when he gazed out at him.
"Hi," Tim ventured, trying for a smile and almost making it.
"Hi." Chris stepped back, letting him into the entry hall.
Silently, he followed Chris into the living room. Chris let him settle into the plush couch before he spoke again. "To what do I owe this honor?"
It seemed that Chris wasn't going to let him get away with just showing up. Maybe he'd worn out his welcome already. "I just wanted to see you." That was the truth, if not all of it. Chris wouldn't appreciate the rest.
"Just like that? You saw me a couple of days ago, as I remember. It's not like it's been awhile. You haven't made a decision yet, have you?" There was just the slightest amount of hope in Chris' low voice, tearing into Tim sharply. How could he continue to hurt this man who had been so good to him, so kind, so tender. Why did he let this drag on?
But he knew the answer. He was a coward, unable to admit how much Chris meant to him because he was afraid of what the admission would mean. How it would change his perception of himself. And because he was a coward, Chris was hurt.
Tim shook his head with regret and stood. It was wrong to have come here, wrong to keep dragging this out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."
"Why did you?" Chris' eyes were carefully blank, his tone totally neutral.
Closing his eyes for a second, Tim sighed, nothing left but the truth. "I didn't want to be alone tonight."
"And there was no one else?"
"I wanted to see you." There were other people he could have been with, but in the last few months it was Chris' company he craved when it hurt.
"Why?" There was no censure, just honest curiosity in the green eyes.
"We've had a case the last few days...," Tim said, looking down with a sigh.
"The Clara Sloane case?"
How had he known? The question must have shown on his face because Chris answered. "It was on the news tonight. I thought that detective..." Chris thought for a moment, unable to come up with the name looked to Tim for the answer.
"Falsone."
"Yeah. I thought he was the one who worked it."
"He was, but it was mine to start with and in the end, I helped out with it."
"And it hurt you?" Chris seemed to understand.
"It brought back memories of another case."
"Adena Watson?"
"Yeah. Did I ever tell you about that?" Tim honestly couldn't remember whether he had or had not said anything about the impact of Adena Watson on his life. There were so many things he should have told Chris and never had. It wouldn't surprise him if he'd never gotten around to telling his lover about that one.
"It's one of the few cases you mentioned more than once, but you didn't say much. I could tell it was pretty important to you."
"My first case as a primary and I never solved it."
Chris nodded. With a huge sigh, he opened held open his arms, beckoning Tim into them. More grateful that he'd ever be able to say, he stepped forward into them.
Breathing in the sweet scent of his lover's hair, Tim let the tenderness and caring wash over him, soothing his heart and giving him strength.
God, it felt so good to just be held, but wasn't it wrong to take without giving anything in return? Since before the night they'd broken up, he'd given nothing to Chris except heartbreak.
Just one more second in this embrace, just one more moment of comfort, then he'd have the strength to leave. But he was lying to himself if he thought he'd be able to give this up. Arousal started to tease at the edge of his senses, fantasies playing on his mind. He needed Chris tonight, but what did he have to give?
Stepping back, he looked down at Chris, seeing the conflict on the beautiful face. It was time to start treating this man right, as he deserved to be treated. Why Chris had let him walk all over him, he didn't know, but he couldn't do it anymore. "I should go," he said, every nerve ending in his body begging him to reconsider.
Chris shook his head, not meeting his eyes. "Stay. I know you want to."
Relief poured though him. Lifting Chris' hand to his mouth, he kissed the palm and met the rueful green eyes. "Thanks." The love he saw in Chris' face humbled him. What had he ever done to be given this gift? Nothing. And of course, that was the problem.
They drew together slowly, holding on tight. Tim sighed into Chris' neck. "I need you tonight."
As Chris nodded, he felt a shudder run through the sturdy body he held. Tim pulled back a little. "Are you okay? I don't want to hurt you anymore. I care about you, Chris. No, more than that, I love you." The words were the absolute truth, a truth that he'd been trying to ignore for too long. There was a flow of relief into his heart as he, at last, admitted his feelings for his lover.
Chris' eyes closed and drew in a deep breath. "I never thought you'd say that. Not when you wouldn't let me say it a few days ago."
"I'm an idiot. I haven't been able to say the words because I didn't want to be gay, not because they weren't true." He said, sliding his fingers into Chris' hair, loving the feel of the strands over his skin.
Chris leaned into the touch. "What changed?"
"Nothing." He shook his head.
Pulling back, Chris met his eyes and Tim could see the pain starting to come back into the green depths. "Then you're still in the same place as you were."
"No. Now I can admit how I feel for you. I do love you. I do want a life with you. I'm still confused, but I'll reconcile the rest." And he would find a way with time. He didn't want to give up this wonderful feeling for a hope that might or might not come true in the future. Chris was his present and that was what was important.
"Why now? I would have slept with you tonight without it."
"I know, but I couldn't just take anymore. You deserve better than that. I've never met anyone who's treated me with the reverence that you do. I can't lose that to some dream of children with a woman I may or may not meet." Tim breathed in deeply, trying to gather his far flung thoughts.
Tightening his arms, Chris nuzzled his neck. "God, I love you so much, Tim. It's easy to treat you well, and you do deserve it. I've never met anyone who made me feel the way you do."
A sob caught in his throat. He really didn't deserve this man. But since he'd been given a second chance to get it right, he wasn't going to blow it. Tim kissed him, molding his mouth to Chris' full lips. The flavor of Chris was not unfamiliar, but tasted all the sweeter for his admission of love.
A thick hand stole up his cheek, caressing him softly. "Let's go to bed, lover."
His eyes slowly opened, looking into the soft green eyes. Damn, it was wonderful to see the happiness there. He'd really like to keep it that way, too, but there were still a few matters to work out. But he wasn't going to worry about that now. "Yeah." He stepped back, holding out his hand.
A wide smile lit Chris' face, brightening his eyes. Their fingers intertwined and their lips met one more time before heading up stairs to the bedroom.
With all the care the task deserved, Tim stripped the clothes off his lover, touching and kissing as each new section of skin was revealed.
Laying Chris down gently on his bed, Tim bent to his task with relish and love bursting through him. He wanted nothing more than to bring his lover as much pleasure as possible. Loving the taste and smell of Chris' flesh, Tim licked and sucked along the sturdy torso, his sense reeling from the sensory input of giving pleasure.
Chris groaned and whimpered every time Tim's mouth touched naked flesh, his head thrown back in surrender,
All too soon, the tables were turned on him and it was Chris' mouth making it's way down his body. It was so easy for him to lose himself in the lush passion of his lover's touch. How could he have ever thought to give this up? Whatever compromises he needed to make in the future, he would. But before that, there was one more thing they needed to do.
He touched Chris' shoulder. The green eyes lifted and met his. "Please," he said, lying back on the bed. "I need you to do this."
It wasn't hard to know what he wanted, and Chris smiled and nodded. Tim reached into the night table drawer, pulling out the required items. The last time he'd let someone do this to him, he hadn't had anytime to think about it. It just sort of happened. Now he had time to consider what he was about to do, and the idea chilled him as much as it excited him. He couldn't stop the fine trembling that started throughout his body.
His fears were groundless, as he had known they would be. Chris' mouth pulled his mind away from all thoughts good or bad, and sent him whirling back towards the peak of pleasure. Blunt fingers gently touched him, stroking inside him, making him ready. Tim groaned and moved on them, the elation driving him crazy.
Finally, after stretching the joy out forever, Chris slide home. Tim flew with the sensations surging through him. The small pain of penetration was completely counteracted by his lover's hand stroking him.
Passion overwhelmed him, nothing existed, but the glory of Chris' rhythm, and the pull of ecstasy. Each stroke brought him closer and closer until the world exploded in so much rapture he wasn't sure he'd survive it.
A while later, he came back, Chris' body draped over his. When he caught breath, he tried to find words for what he felt, but came up with none. "I love you." It seemed so inadequate to the moment.
Chris shifted, gathering him into his arms. "I love you, too. But you knew that."
"Yeah. But it's nice to hear, anyway."
"I'll tell you often." Chris ran a hand down his back, cupping his buttocks gently. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you?"
"No. Not at all. It was... beyond words." Tim snuggled down, kissing Chris' shoulder. Closing his eyes, he was more than ready for sleep.
"Are we okay now?" The hesitation in the low voice surprised him, opening his eyes, he glanced at his lover.
"Yeah, Chris. If you still want me, I'm yours. I can't fight my feelings." A thrill of anticipation crept into his heart. This would work, he'd see to it. He wanted a life with Chris. Maybe together they could work things out.
"And the reasons you wanted to." Again there was too much hesitation in his lover's tone.
He had to be honest. "Still exist, but I'll deal with them."
"I'll help you, if you let me."
"I will."
"Good."
Tim picked up the phone. He only had a moment before he and Frank needed to hit the streets. Junior Bunk had shot the hell out the squad room, killed three uniforms and hit two of their own. He was still partially in shock from the violence that had occurred just a few hours ago. There was going to be hell to pay for this, and by God, he was going to help deliver it.
The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Zodiac. Can I help you?" a voice he didn't recognize asked.
"Yes, can I speak to Chris Rawls?" He asked, looking at his watch, only a couple more minutes.
"Whom may I say is calling, please?"
"Tim Bayliss."
"One second." And that was all it took for Chris to pick up the phone.
"Hi, Tim. What's wrong?"
"Why do you always ask what's wrong?" Tim sighed.
"Because you never call me here unless there's something going on and you're going to cancel. Got a big case?" Chris' voice sounded faintly amused almost as if he was getting used to the fact he was involved with a cop with an unpredictable schedule.
Tim didn't have time to go into it now. Chris could likely read what he needed to know in the morning papers or hear about it on the late news. "Yeah. And I'll tell you about it later. I've got to go."
"You always do. Okay. Be careful."
"Always."
"Love you."
"Yeah, me too." Tim hung up the phone, heading for the corridor. Frank was waiting, grimly. They had work to do.
After he'd resigned and things had quieted a little, it occurred to Frank as he looked around the hospital room, he needed to make one more call. No one had told Tim's lover what had happened. Frank had no idea whether anyone even knew about Chris Rawls, not for sure anyway.
He stood. Mary looked up at him, a question in her eyes. "I need to do something," he whispered, trying to keep his voice low, yet still convey that he didn't want to be questioned about it.
Mary seemed to understand and nodded. "Okay."
Finding a pay phone in the hall, Frank had to call information to get the number of the Zodiac. It was late, but Chris was still there.
"Hello?" Rawls voice sounded tentative and frightened. How many times had he had to make a call like this before? Too many. But never again after this.
"This is Frank Pembleton. I'm Tim's partner. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but he was shot tonight." It was always better to get it all out as quickly as possible.
"Is he alive?" The voice cracked audibly. "Please, tell me he's alive."
"Yes, yes." Frank tried to keep his voice calm and steady, hoping to calm Rawls fears, but knowing nothing would do that until he saw Tim. "He's at Johns Hopkins Hospital. He's out of surgery."
He could hear Chris take a deep breath. "Is he okay?"
"We won't know for a while. But the doctor's are cautiously optimistic," he said, miming Tim's mother's words.
"Can I..." Chris cleared his throat, his voice was stronger when he spoke again. "Would it be okay if I came down there, now?"
Frank's heart nearly broke with the unfairness of Chris words. By all right, this man was his partner's choice for a companion and while he had his own issues of jealousy, he knew that Tim would want him there at his bedside. Maybe more than the rest of his colleagues. And Rawls tone suggested he expected to be denied access.
"Yes, come down. But..." He didn't know Rawls at all, had only met him the single time during the investigation of the Costello case last winter. How was the man going to react to sight of Tim as he was now? Frank had not been able to hold back tears, but from him, no one would think anything amiss, from an outsider, it would confirm everyone's suspicions.
"Don't worry detective, I'm not given to hysterics." A bitter laugh followed the words. "I'll act appropriately."
Frank wasn't sure what he should say. It was time to end this call. "Fine. We'll be here."
"Oh, Detective,"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for calling me."
"I know what you mean to Tim." Frank hung up before one of them could say anything more.
At least he was sitting up. After nearly a week flat on his back, or on his side more often than not, it was great to be able to sit up. Still, he hurt even though the drugs were creating a hazy world around him. He couldn't quite think straight, but he was going longer and longer without the heavy medication -- against doctor's orders, but he'd hated that drugged feeling.
Just after lunch, Frank came in. He knew that Frank had quit Homicide and while Tim knew it was probably because he was shot, Frank hadn't been willing to talk about it.
Well, the time had come, and Tim wanted answers.
"Frank. Tell me what happened. I know, did you quit because of me?" Tim tried to infuse as much strength as he could into the words, not wanting Frank to use his weakness as an excuse to put this off.
The brown eyes flashed. "It wasn't because of you, Tim. Not everything in the world revolves around Tim Bayliss."
"Then why?" He met the dark eyes and saw more than a small amount of reluctance to speak.
"Because I had to."
"Why?" He wasn't going to let this go, no matter what how much Frank tried to dodge him.
"Tim, it's too soon to talk about. Okay. We can do this later, when you're feeling better." Frank's tone was exaggerated patience and Tim could feel the pressure building in his partner. It sounded an awful lot like the same tone he used with Livvy when she was acting up. It annoyed him no end.
"Frank, I want an answer." Despite trying to make himself sound stern, his voice came out breathy and light.
"I have none to give you," Frank snapped, annoyance written all over the harsh words.
"Why not?" He wasn't going to give this up, not without an explanation. And Frank was damned well going to give it to him.
"There are no answers left. No truth left."
"Dammit, Frank, don't you care about me? I need to know." Tim asked, hating himself for the whine in his voice, but was feeling too lousy to do anything about it.
The look in Frank's eyes turned raw with hurt. "Yes, I care about you. You know I do."
"Do I? Why are you leaving? Tell me Dammit! I was your partner for six years, don't I deserve at least an answer to why?"
"Tim," Frank said, his voice a sigh. Tim could see the resignation in his face, and tried to stifle the twinge of guilt that he'd pushed Frank to talk about it. But he had to know. "I can't do this anymore. I froze. I hesitated and it nearly cost you your life. It's not the first time, either."
"Frank." Tim couldn't argue with the last statement. Frank had a hard time discharging his weapon except on the range. Thankfully, their job did not require it often. He'd only fired his weapon a hand full of times during his entire career.
"What?"
"I don't want you to leave."
"Too late. I'm gone," Frank snapped again, annoyance too clear. Tim had pushed him too far.
"You could talk to Gee." Tim knew he should leave it be, but he couldn't. Frank leaving homicide would tear a bigger hole in his life than the bullet did.
"Don't ever mention him to me again." The anger and hurt in the harsh tone startled Tim. What exactly had happened?
"Tell me what's going on. No one has said anything except that Kellerman is gone. Why are you so angry?"
Frank sighed and then told him everything. Tim couldn't say he was shocked that Kellerman had shot Mahoney. Mike had been on a downward slide since the arson corruption charges last year. He'd never gotten past the fact that he was charged.
That Terry Stivers and Meldrick Lewis had backed him also didn't surprise him although he didn't think he could have done it; could have lied for another cop. But he wasn't sure, what if it were Frank?
He mentally shook his head. It would never be Frank. Not in a million years, Frank hated violence too much. Frank would never be able to shoot anyone, leave alone in cold blood.
Understanding why Frank had to leave didn't help with the pain he felt about it. It felt like another bullet hole in his already hurting body.
"I understand," Tim told him softly, his eyes down cast, looking at the white sheets covering him.
"Tim."
He looked up at Frank, there was something completely unreadable in the dark brown eyes.
Tim sighed. "What?"
Frank dropped his eye, seeming to steel himself. He moved from the plastic chair to sit on the bed. "There's another reason I have to leave."
Another one? Frank already had two damned good reasons. What could the other one be? Tim wasn't sure he wanted to know.
He looked up at his partner and saw the ragged emotions Frank didn't bother to hide sweeping across the round features. The big brown eyes softened as Frank took his hand, squeezing it gently. It always surprised him how small Frank's hands were. Not soft, but not very hard or callused either. There was such comfort for Tim in the feel of those small hands.
He'd always had a secret fantasy about Frank's hands on his flesh. Not that he'd ever consider acting on it, even if Frank were willing, which he most certainly was not. But when Tim felt his worst, lonely and isolated, he'd take out his little dream and play with it until he felt better. Then it would go back into the corner of his mind where his most hidden desires rested and stay there until the next time it was needed.
"Tell me what's wrong." Tim squeezed Frank's fingers encouragingly. "Maybe I can help."
Frank shook his head. "No one can help. It's an impossible situation."
"What is?"
Taking a deep breath, Frank closed his eyes tightly and spoke so softly Tim had to lean forward to hear. "We are."
A thousand emotions flipped one by one though his mind, telling him Frank knew of his feelings and impossibly returned them. Tears stung his eyes and he nodded. "It's always been that way." Tim couldn't believe how rough his voice sounded from one word to the next.
"There's nothing we can do about it, either." Frank met his gaze with bright, hurt eyes. "Nothing I can do about it."
"I know." Tim nodded, pain slicing into him, making it hard to breathe. Just let me get through this without falling apart, he prayed to anyone who would listen. Please don't let me cry. "I'd never think to ask anything of you."
"I know." Frank's fingers tightened a little.
"When did you realize it?" Tim knew it had to have been recently, Frank was too upset for it to have been something he'd known for any length of time.
"Since you were shot. Maybe a little before, but nothing I could acknowledge even to myself. Then when you almost died in my arms, I was forced to see it."
"You can't acknowledge it now either." A sob tried to get out of his chest, but he forced it back by taking a deep breath.
The brown eyes dropped. "No. I can't. I won't. To bring it out into the light, to say the words would be wrong. They belong to someone else."
"I know." His voice cracked in agony. "That you've said this much is more than I ever expected, or hoped for."
"I wish..." Frank trailed off. The small brown hand stole up to touch the bangs on Tim's forehead, pushing them back.
Trying not to lean into the touch, Tim shook his head. "No. Please don't wish. I don't. I can't. I wouldn't hurt Mary or your kids, even at the cost of my own life."
A huge, painful lump settled in Tim's stomach as he acknowledged the truth of Frank's words. There was nothing he wanted more than to belong to this man. But it wouldn't happen, and even if it could, he'd never ask for it.
Easing his hand onto the back of Tim's neck, Frank gently nudged him forward until he rested in the strong arms, his head moving forward to lean on Frank's shoulder. Breathing in as deeply as his lungs would allow, Tim inhaled the sweet-pungent scent of his partner.
Had he been in any less pain, the smell alone would have aroused him terribly. But as it was, his cock twitched once or twice, just to let him know it was alive and willing. His body, however, didn't have the energy or inclination.
Having Frank hold him was the sweetest heaven he'd ever know, the worst hell he'd ever had to endure. The conflicting emotions threatened to tear him apart. This was wrong, but the glory of Frank's touch was too tempting, too sweet and pure to deny. Finally he pulled back a little, just enough to look into the liquid brown eyes. He saw the love, and it was enough, more in fact, that he'd ever thought to have.
One of Frank's hands came up to cup his jaw, drawing him down to meet the plush lips that parted for him. Tim's eyes closed automatically, and he leaned in for a taste.
His senses, dulled by pain and the drugs he'd been given, still leaped for joy when Frank's tongue gently invaded his mouth. Responding despite himself, Tim gave himself up to this one-time pleasure.
The tenderness of Frank's mouth released the tears he'd been holding back, and Tim sobbed against Frank's lips. Too sweet to bear, the joy of the kiss was so close to pain, Tim wasn't sure he'd survive it the tearing of his heart.
When Tim thought he would surely die of this, Frank pulled back, slowly lowering him back onto the pillows and wiping the tears from his face.
Reaching out with trembling fingers, Tim reverently touched the matching wetness on Frank's cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Tim whispered, wishing he could think of something else to say to ease the pain, but there was nothing else, for either of them.
Frank nodded. "Will you be okay?"
"Yes. Chris will be by soon."
"Good." Frank cleared his throat. "It's still serious between you two?" His partner looked like he might be afraid of the answer. When he'd told Frank about his relationship with Chris, he'd left it open as to whether they would stay together. Now it looked like he and Chris would have a lasting relationship. Whatever it was, he was committed to seeing it through. Tim honestly hoped he and Chris could work through the rest of their problems and try for forever.
"Yeah. Very serious." Frank didn't need to know there were still a few snags.
"That's good. You have someone who cares about you." What Frank needed to know was that he would be okay and that he could give his friend that much.
"Frank." He paused until Frank met his eyes. "I'm going to be okay." Taking his hand, Tim squeezed it tightly. "Really."
Again, Frank just nodded.
Standing, Frank leaned back down, kissing him on the forehead, and caressing his face gently. "I've got to go."
"It's okay." He tried to convey the conviction with his words.
"Yeah," Frank said as he slipped out the door.
Lying back on his bed, Tim caught another sob as it tried to escape. Pushing it back, he angrily wiped at the tears that refused to stop falling. He didn't want to cry.
Frank's love was a blessing and a curse. Some part of him wanted everyone to know that Frank Pembleton really did love him, but knowing it himself would be enough. Later, he was sure, there would be great comfort in knowing how Frank felt about him, but right now, all that existed was a tearing pain in his heart.
Tears continued to seep of out his eyes as he tried with minimal success to stay them. It hurt just as bad to know his love was returned as he imagined it would hurt to know it wasn't. He couldn't win and in this case he didn't want to. There would never be anything else, but this deep aching pain. He'd live with it and get on with his life.
Chris would be here shortly and if he didn't stop the tears, his lover would demand to know what had upset him. Tim made another effort to stop the tears and failed. Turning his face toward the pillow, he gave up the fight, allowing himself to weep for what might have been.
After a few moments, the grief passed and the world righted itself once again, or as right as it ever got in his universe. He put his feeling for Frank back in the box where they hid and closed the lid, tying it down with force of will alone. His future would be with someone else.
Chris pushed open the glass doors that led into the hospital's main entrance. He'd seen Frank Pembleton in the parking lot, but Tim's partner had walked right by him without a word, as if he hadn't seen him. It was possible that Frank hadn't, the other man had seemed lost in thought.
Or Frank could also be ignoring him. Some of the other cops from Tim's division had pointedly not acknowledged his existence when he'd been visiting Tim and one of them came by -- which they did a lot. It was as if they thought he'd somehow corrupted their colleague.
Still, it was Frank who'd called him the night Tim had been shot, letting him know before he could read it in the papers the next morning, for which he was very grateful.
Damn, it was so difficult when your lover wasn't out. At least Tim's mother had accepted his presence at Tim's bedside without a question. Of course, she probably thought he was just another friend she didn't know.
With a sigh of frustration, Chris pushed open the door to Tim's room.
Tim turned to look at him as he approached the bed. Looking a little better each time Chris saw him, today there was even some color in Tim's face.
"How are you feeling?" Chris asked, sitting in the chair next to the bed, and reaching out to squeeze his lover's hand.
"Okay. I guess. I'm still doped up on pain medusa." Lacing their fingers together, Tim gave him a wan smile.
Knowing how much Tim hated pain pill, it was all too likely that this lover was not taking them regularly. "You need to be taking all of them."
"What makes you think I'm not?"
Chris just looked at him.
Tim's lips quirked up in a half grin. "I hate the way they cloud my head. I'd rather be thinking clearly."
"And in pain?"
Shrugging, Tim just sighed. "Better that than not thinking straight."
"What do you need to worry about in here anyway?" Moving closer, he put his other hand on Tim's cheek, sliding his fingers along the scratchy cheek. Tim needed a shave.
Leaning into the touch, his lover just sighed again. "I always have things to worry about."
"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?"
Tim smiled sweetly at him and his heart jumped. "Yeah. I seem to recall that you've mentioned it a time or two."
"Well, just as long as you know. Do you need anything?"
"Only for it to stop hurting so I can go home." Shifting on the bed, Tim grunted.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, but I want to go home, soon."
"Soon enough."
"You know, I'm gonna need some help at first. I was thinking of staying with my mom." Something in the way Tim said it, alerted him that this was not his lover's first choice.
"You know you can stay with me. I can't take too much time off, but I can be home for large portions of the day."
"You'd do that for me?" Tim seemed more than a little surprised as though he found it odd that anyone would go out of their way for him. It enraged Chris that so many people had made this special man feel so worthless.
"Why would you think otherwise?"
Tim's eyes dropped and he became very interested in the piping on his blanket. "I don't know. I wasn't sure. I mean, we..."
"I thought we were working toward a committed relationship."
He nodded, still not meeting Chris' eyes. "We are. We have one. Don't we?"
Placing his hand gently under Tim's chin, he raised it to look at him. "On my part we do. You're my lover, more than that you're my friend. I will do everything I can to help you."
"I'm not ready to be living together, just yet. I mean, it will be okay for a while, you know, while I recover." Tim obviously still had some issues to work out with their relationship. Chris wished there was something he could do to help, but there was nothing he could think of to ease the way for his lover.
He wasn't going to push, he'd found out the hard way that would be less than helpful. "What ever you're comfortable with, Tim. We don't have to live together. You could stay home and I'll come check on you a couple of times a day if you're uncomfortable with living with me."
"Why are you so good to me?" Tim shook his head as if he didn't really understand.
It was pretty simple, really. "I love you."
Reaching out, Tim touched his face softly. "Me, too. And thanks. I do think I'll stay with you for a few weeks and then move back to my place. I have a week or two before I have to decide anything."
"Really, Tim, whatever you want."
"Yeah." Tim grinned. "At least I won't have to explain to my mother why I'll be staying with you."
Oh no. He did not like where this was leading. Tim's mother was a subject he'd just as soon not think about. But he had to know. "Uh... is there something you want to tell me?"
"I told her." Why did he know that was coming? Well, Tim didn't look too distraught. As a matter of fact, he looked down right pleased with himself.
"Why?"
"Because she asked."
"She asked?"
"Yeah. She wanted to know who you were and why you were so upset when you showed up here the night I was shot."
"I didn't think I acted too badly. Your partner had warned me not to."
Tim nodded. "Yeah, when she first asked, I thought you must have been hysterical."
That annoyed him. "Tim, have you ever known me to be hysterical over anything?. Even when you were stomping all over my heart?"
"Thank you so much for reminding me of that. And you did some stomping, too."
That really wasn't the point. "Tim."
"Okay. So maybe I was out of line thinking that, but anyway, she said she could see it in your eyes when you looked at me."
His eyes? He had made a point of not making eye contact with anyone for very long that night. "What the hell did she see?"
"Tears."
Damn, he couldn't help that. "I guess no one else shed any tears?"
"Well, she said she did and Frank did."
Frank Pembleton. Now there was another subject they were not going to discuss. Chris did not want to know exactly how Tim felt about his partner. Whatever was between them, and Chris could guess how strong those feeling were, he did not want or need to know. Tim belonged to him now, or would shortly and Frank Pembleton was a happily married man. There was nothing that could go anywhere.
A little bit of doubt remained about it, just a small nagging voice that said there was more to this issue. But Chris ignored it. Tim was his.
Tim continued. "And when you came in your eyes were very bright. She figured out that I meant a lot to you. I think she'd worked on accepting it before she asked me."
He could not believe it could be that easy. "She doesn't have a problem with it?"
"Well, her only son isn't going to give her grandchildren, but she does want me to be happy. So it's kind of a toss up right now."
"But you're hopeful she's going to be okay with it."
"Yeah, I got the feeling she will be."
"Good." A tangible feeling of relief swept though him. If Tim's mom was okay with their relationship the rest of the family would probably fall in line.
"Yeah. The rest of my family might not be as accepting."
"How will you deal with it?" He did not want Tim upset by an ugly scene, at least until he was quite a bit more recovered.
"As well as I can. But I'm not giving you up."
The declaration warmed Chris heart, and he knew he'd been right to fight for Tim. Maybe they did have a shot at the brass ring. Taking a chance, he leaned down and gave his lover a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks."
--finis
December 1998