Interminable as the trip had seemed, Josh could hardly contain his enthusiasm as, after ten hours of flight, his airplane finally landed in the Gatwick International Airport in London, England.

How long had it been since he’d returned to the place of his birth? Six? Seven years? As he gathered his carryon bag and his CD player together to exit the plane, he wondered if his mother still lived in her expensive flat in Wimbledon. If she did, she more than likely had her scotch cabinet, which meant that Josh would be going back to the states a very happy man indeed.

He was the last one off of the plane, which meant he was the last one onto the trolley. Which meant there were no longer any available seats. He held onto the side of the vehicle as they chugged along. Frigid winter air bit into his flesh, and Josh wished fervently that he had remembered to wear a sweater. After all, England was much colder than Florida.

It wasn’t going through customs that bothered him so much as it was finding his luggage. He stood gauntly, staring in angst as bag after bag floated through the terminal… and no sign of his old army satchel.

Until the last bag drifted through and there it was, colored all over with signatures from Josh’s time in the U.S. military. Josh reached out and caught the bag as it went by, hefted it onto his shoulders, then turned and made his way from the crowded terminal.

He had been expecting his mother to be waiting for him, to take him back to her apartment. To his surprise, his little sister Alice lingered in the lobby to Gatwick, anxiously wringing her hands and playing with her hair. When she saw him, Josh could have sworn that he saw her blood pressure drop.

"Josh!" she cried happily and ran forward to him.

Josh caught Alice up in his arms and turned her in a circle before embracing her, smiling and kissing her forehead. How she’d grown! When he had left to live with his father in the states seven years ago, she’d hardly been over eleven. At the time, Josh remembered seeing her in ripped Levi’s and shirts covered in dirt and her hair in farm girl braids. Now she looked as though she’d matured into the ideal woman, which she had. Her figure was petite and comely, her eyes dark mahogany and expressive.

"I hardly recognized you," Josh said with a radiant smile, and shook his head in mild disbelief. "You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you."

"So’ve you!" Alice pointed out and gave her brother a critiquing stare. She lifted one hand up to push at his untrimmed bangs, tsking lightly. "Don’t they let you bathe in the army? Silly Americans…"

"Stop fussing about," Josh lamented and batted at Alice’s hand. "They made me shave my head when I joined the army, so when I was released, I let it grow out that length. Thought it made me look more attractive."

"Maybe to a golden retriever it does," Alice giggled and took her brother’s arm. "It makes you look like an ass." They left the lobby and headed for the car park. "Come along. I drove Mummy’s car."

"Does she still live in Wimbledon?" Josh inquired. He really had wished to keep in closer contact with his English family, but there were so many things that had kept him occupied that whatever spare time he had had was devoted to eating and sleeping. For the first year of their separation, he had kept in contact with his mother through letters and brief phone calls. But as the army required more and more of his time, he had less to give to his family.

Lack of time and a true bond had finally broken the weak relationship that Josh had shared with his father, and that was the main reason he had left the states to seek solace with the parent he had left behind. If it weren’t for the divorce and his devotion to his work, he would have returned long ago.

"No, " Alice replied and heaved a disappointed sigh. "She had to sell it. We moved in with Uncle Pete and his family."

"Do you live with them still?" Josh asked and held the door open for his sister as they left Gatwick. The bite of the frigid wind stung his ears like a thousand needles.

Alice gave a shy smile and shook her head. "Again, no," she answered, and pride surged in her eyes. "My fiancee and I bought a house in France. Timothy is going to finish up his medical degree there and we’re going to start a practice together."

‘She really has grown up,’ Josh realized wistfully and couldn’t help but feel happy for Alice’s success. She’d done well in school and she was an all round good person. What better life for her than a secure one? Josh realized that before long, he would be bouncing nieces and nephews on his knees and he loved this idea, for he had always loved children.

"How about you, Josh?" Alice asked curiously. "Where are you going to go after you visit us? Do you have any plans?"

"Not particularly," Josh admitted ruefully and gave his mahogany hair a light toss to keep his fringe from his eyes. "I was thinking of going back to the states. You know, become a writer like I planned."

"But… can’t you do that in England?" Alice sounded scared. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot and pulled her mittens onto her hands.

For a moment, Josh had a brief flash back to when he was hardly over twelve. He remembered seeing Alice standing in the middle of the street in Putney Heath, tugging at her mittens and smiling her toothy, eight year old smile. Josh shook his head slightly and opened the passenger side of the car to help Alice in.

"I prefer the warmth of Florida to the cold of England," he said honestly.

****

Josh had wanted to fly to France to see Alice’s house, but she declined and said that their mother was starting to get sick.

"It’s vital that you see her, Josh," she said softly as they turned down a country road. "She’s not doing well at all.’

Josh could remember from his childhood that his mother had not been a healthy woman. She was frail; giving birth to Alice had taken quite a bit out of her, and she’d never recovered. One of the things that Josh remembered clearly was waking up one night and going into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He’d passed by the bathroom and saw that the lights were on inside. He had been a little boy and had not known better than to peek inside. So he did so, and found his aching mother leaning over the toilet. His father was holding her auburn hair away from her face as she vomited. But Josh couldn’t remember her eating anything that day, so why was she sick to her stomach?

Then he saw the blood. His mother was vomiting blood.

"Josh? Are you all right?" Alice asked, concerned. She reached out and touched his arm.

Startled from his reverie, Josh gave Alice a wistful smile and nodded. He leaned back slightly as he drove and lifted one hand to run his fingers through his hair. Perhaps she only had a common cold this time, he tried to convince himself, but the grim knowledge that something might be seriously wrong with his mother made Josh shiver, afraid.

He knew that there would eventually come a time when he would be burying both of his parents, and he had even come to accept this as a fact of life. But not so soon, not before they could see Alice’s children.

It seemed, however, that the weather had changed for the better after his flight had landed. He could see little smatterings of cirrus clouds high above him through the canopy of the trees and the sun was high in the sky, shining its radiance down over him and the car. Josh felt a paradox; how could he feel so miserable all of a sudden while the sun shone so gloriously? And in England, of all places!

Ahead of him, he could see the vague outline of a white house on top of a hill. It was a dumpy looking place from a distance. The chalk white exterior of the establishment was laden with dirt and mildew from lack of maintenance and the corroded swing set in the front yard was already in the process of collapsing. Josh vaguely remembered hanging upside down from the monkey bars connected to that set, dangling there and making face at…

Him.

Josh’s fingers curled around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles whitened; a grim line formed where his lips had been. He had refused to even acknowledge that he and Robert had been friends, especially after the summer that Josh had gone to live in the United States.

Alice gave him a worried side glance and worried her lower lip anxiously, but she didn’t press the matter. Josh figured that she knew what was on his mind. Alice was the only one who he had ever mentioned Robert to, outside of his mother. Josh briefly wondered if his mother still loathed him for it; he hoped not.

Besides, that was water under the bridge. It was time to pour oil over troubled waters and start anew with his mother before her time was up and she left this mortal coil for good.

He pulled Alice’s car to a stop and pushed the door open, then walked around the front of the car to open the passenger side door. Alice stepped out and politely thanked her brother, then rubbed her hands together in anticipation. A smile lit up her lovely features.

"Mother’s been looking forward to your visit for months now, you know," she informed her brother as they climbed up the deteriorating, creaky wooden steps to the front porch, "It’s all she’s been able to talk about according to Uncle Pete."

‘So she’s not mad at me,’ Josh thought and smiled in relief.

Alice stopped in front of the door; it was a crude looking piece of work with an old, rusted wire screen to keep bugs out. There seemed to be no lock on it outside of the chain lock. She hesitated before ringing the door bell to frown at Josh and lifted one hand to touch his cheek.

"Josh? Are you sure you’re all right?" she asked gently.

Josh was silent for what felt like years to both himself and to Alice. He didn’t answer, nor did he meet his sister’s gaze; they both knew that anything he said would be a lie. Technically, there was nothing for him to be upset about, besides the obvious fact that his mother was dying. Perhaps that was what Alice was referring to. But there was always the off chance, that little minuscule chance, that she could be referring to—

"Yeah," he assured her at last and his lips turned up in a smile. "Not so gloomy now."

Alice let her hand fall away from her brother’s face and returned his false smile. She knew enough to know that he was putting up a brave front for her and her family, but she also knew that she would have better luck talking to a Russian mercenary about peace affairs rather than getting him to spill his heart out to her after his years in the army. She gently rapped on the door and rang the bell once.

A man came to the door wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and an old white T-shirt; Josh recognized him instantly as his uncle, Peter. Peter was an aging man with graying brown hair and a slightly pudgy build, but his eyes were soft blue and kind. He recognized Alice as he pushed open the door and embraced her, but he took a moment to recognize Josh. When he did, his eyes widened.

"I don’t believe it," he whispered in astonishment, and Josh couldn’t help but offer his uncle a weak smile.

"Hey, Uncle Pete," he greeted, but the last portion of his sentence was muffled as Peter embraced him tightly and thumped him on the back hard, near crying with joy.

"Welcome home," Peter choked and drew back to gaze with pride-filled eyes upon his nephew. Josh had filled out extraordinarily compared to the scrawny build he’d brandished as a fifteen year old when he’d left. Peter’s smile faded slightly, however; something had died during his six years in the states. Josh’s eyes glowed a little less, his smile was a little emptier, and his body language wasn’t near as welcoming as it had been during the years before his departure for Florida.

Alice gently took her brother’s arm and smiled at Peter. "Is Mother awake?" she asked, hoping to steer Peter’s attention away from her brother’s depressed aura. Her uncle gave her a brief glance, then seemed to understand what she was saying. He nodded and held the door open for both Alice and Josh, saying to his nephew, "We’ve got your room put together upstairs. It’s a bit dusty and drafty, but we’re sure it will suit your immediate needs."

"Thanks for the hospitality, Uncle Pete," Josh thanked him honestly and followed Alice into the dank interior of the house.

Since his wife had died, Peter had more or less just let the house slowly slip away from him. It looked as if someone had just thrown the place together over night; newspapers littered the floor, the rooms stank of cigarette smoke, and Josh thought he could even scent the sordid odor of urine somewhere in the house. He turned his gaze to look up the stairs; he could hear his mother coughing.

Peter noticed Josh’s expression with grim despair. He touched Josh’s arm and said in a sympathetic tone, "She’s been holding out for you, Joshua… Just so she could see you one last time."

Josh turned to look at Peter in horror, fear wrought across his normally laconic features. "You mean she’s--?!"

Peter nodded.

Josh dropped his army satchel to the floor and rushed up the stairs like a bottle rocket, his heart thundering in his chest. No, there was no way she could be dying! Not in a house like this, not with the stench of urine so near her!

He flung open the door to the room he heard the coughing come from and stood in the doorway.

There were two windows in the humble room and neither of them had glass to keep out the rain or the bugs. Once white lace curtains lazily flapped as wind slowly pushed them like waves. There was a bed centered in the room, and a trembling woman lay atop the sheets with a comforter pulled up around her to keep her warm. Her hair was a beautiful auburn hue, not even beginning to show its age, and it stretched long enough to brush her heels. Josh stood transfixed at the sight of his mother, Josephine, and the withered rose she had become.

"M-Mother…?" he whispered hoarsely.

Josephine opened her mouth to respond, her wide green eyes filled with a mixture of pain and joy at his appearance. She lifted one of her thin, pale arms to her son and tried to smile for him, but her agony was painted all over her actions like blood on a lamb. "Joshua," she whispered, nay, croaked her son’s name.

He went to her bedside, knelt beside her, and took her hand gently in his. He could not fight the tears as they began to well up in his quivering hazel eyes. He brought her hand to his face and kissed her knuckles, a choked sob already threatening to overwhelm him. "Oh Mother, please don’t…"

"Joshua…" Josephine’s voice softened and her trembling ceased for a moment. She turned her head to give her son a kind, forgiving smile as she lifted her hand from Joshua’s grasp. In a frail movement, her skeletal fingers traced his cheek, and she whispered to him, "I’ve always loved you, sweet heart."

"Mother, don’t," Josh pleaded, but Josephine was beyond all understanding. She only smiled and gazed at her son in blissful ignorance before her lovely green eyes saw no more, and she stilled on her bed.

‘Why… why won’t her eyes close!?’ Josh screamed mentally and caught her hand as it fell to the sheets. He shook his head, unbelieving, and bit his lip as the sob tore through him like a bullet.

But it seemed as though he was going to sob in silence, for no noise left his lips.

****

This was nothing how Josh had envisioned his trip to his home, to renew broken ties with his family. He had wanted to share Christmas in his mother’s flat, drink scotch with his cousins, and sing carols. He had wanted to discuss with Alice her wedding arrangements and meet this Timothy fellow who had swept her off her feet. Never in his agenda had his mother’s death taken up residence.

Needless to say, her demise was not a shock to the rest of his family, despite Josh’s seemingly inconsolable depression. As his family flocked to Peter’s house to say their final good byes to Josephine, even his own siblings took no notice of the grim figure as he lounged by the fire place.

But the pain in his heart was immeasurable. With each breath, his entire being throbbed, pulsed with the knowledge that his mother, his life-giver, his proverbial safety blanket, was no longer with him. He held his head in one hand and rubbed his forehead with his thumb; his tears had come and gone and now he only felt numb. Numb to everything, to his uncle, his sister, his brothers…

But not to him.

It honestly shook him to the core when he saw the blonde getting out of his car. It made him tremble as he ascended the stairs, his overcoat laden with rain water. As Robert touched the doorknob, Josh retreated to the kitchen, as if something had burned him.

He couldn’t face him, not so soon after his mother’s death…

Alice came through into the kitchen and stopped when she saw her brother standing next to the sink like a doll, his head hung like an ill horse. She was silent, her hands folded before her; even as children, she had been the stronger sibling when it came to emotional stress. Her mother’s death could not kill her spirit yet. She had to be the resilient pillar for the present, but when all had passed and was gone, she would get her chance to cry.

Josh couldn’t face Alice though he knew she was there. In fact, he wished fervently that she would just… go away. Go away and leave him to his sorrow and his confusion. Go away so that Robert wouldn’t come and find him here, like he always did.

Robert always found Joshua, no matter where he hid…

"Oh Josh," Alice began and took a step forward, but Josh cut her off.

"Alice, I… leave me alone. Please."

"But Josh, Robert’s here." Uncomfortable pause. "He… he really wants to speak with you—"

"I don’t want to talk to him right now," he spat back, unintentionally harsh, "I don’t want to talk to anyone." He knew he should not be using Alice as a scapegoat for his anger and frustration, but she was partially begging for it with her innocent concern.

She left then, unable to tame his raging sorrow or to lead him out to Robert. Josh watched the door close as she disappeared, then turned his angry hazel eyes to glare vehemently upon the back garden that had been so tenderly taken care of when he was a boy. It was a graveyard of what it used to be, he noted, with weeds and vines crawling over everything. Even the white bird fountain that he had played by as a young boy no longer spouted water. Josh looked aside. That was where he had first—

"It’s… good to see you again, Josh."

That voice…

Josh didn’t turn around. If he did, he knew he would be admitting to the fact that Robert was there. Robert, the one person he had not wanted to leave when he had been dragged to the states with his father… why was it that now, six years later, he did not even want to look into that blonde man’s intense cobalt eyes?

Robert’s voice was soft, so soft, like his hair, like his mouth. "Josh… I know you can hear me."

‘No use playing the deaf idiot any longer,’ Josh chided himself, then pushed away from the sink and turned in a slow movement to look at his childhood… friend?

Robert had not changed that greatly, he noted. He was still fairly short, though frail looking, with pale skin and a slightly angular nose and jaw. His hair wasn’t as long as it had been when they were boys; Robert had trimmed it back to just above his ears. It suited him nicely, and Josh got the feeling that Robert had grown into his hairstyle.

His clothes hung on him, however. As boys, Robert had filled out his clothing quite nicely, being on the soccer team and what not. Now, he looked as though he had drifted away from himself, as if he was part of a river that had branched out, and was slowly draining from its previous magnificence.

"Rob," he greeted, rather caustically. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

Robert winced softly at the tone of Josh’s voice, but he knew that there was no use in making a scene of it. He brushed it off, then tried to smile. "You look good," he complimented rather emptily.

"You too," Josh replied flatly. That topic was stressed and as old as last week’s newspaper. Josh shifted in the awkward silence that ensued.

It was Robert who made the move to break their superficial safety. Sure that no one would be entering the kitchen for some time, he strode forward, but stopped when he felt Josh’s hand press against his chest, against his coat, halting him.

"Rob, don’t," Josh began weakly and shook his head, desperate to find some sort of escape from the solace that his friend was offering. He knew he could never accept Robert’s offer, not after everything that had happened between them.

Robert resisted the barrier, but only for a moment. He knew better than to press Joshua, better than to make him give in like a slave. Robert receded and averted his gaze.

"I’m sorry," he apologized honestly and lifted one hand to run through his fine blonde hair.

"What are you doing here?" Josh asked him at last. He had retreated to another corner of the kitchen.

Robert stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, which Josh remembered was a nervous habit that Robert had had since their early primary school years. "I heard about Josephine yesterday," he said softly, "and I came by to console Alice. I saw you disappear into the kitchen, and I wondered…" He stopped, then shook his head and demanded, a bit hurt, "Why are you running away from me?"

"You’ve got some nerve," Josh snapped in response when he regained his voice and for once, he missed the days, nay, the months he had spent in Russia as a peace keeper for the states. He enveloped himself with his arms and stared at the ground, as if feeling violated.

"You say one thing and do another, Robert. You say that there’s something there when really there’s nothing there at all except your own carnal pleasures and the trail of broken hearts you leave in your wake. I’ve hardened my own heart against you in the six years I spent in Florida with Dad, and I won’t let you control me again."

"But I never," Robert began to insist, and took a step forward to touch Josh’s arm. But Josh cut him off with a vehement glare and slapped his hand aside.

"Way to see me off, Rob," he drawled acidly and began to pace the length of the kitchen. He whirled at last, hazel eyes aflame with fury. "I waited for you until the flight attendants and security guards were forced to drag me onto that airplane. I fought them with every ounce of strength I had in my body, hoping that you would come, that you would embrace me before my family, show them that you weren’t afraid to admit to what we were.

"But you never came," he concluded quietly, distraught and already losing his voice from emotion. To Robert, he sounded as if someone had just taken an ax to his heart and wedged it in as far as it would go, then ripped it out again and made him watch the blood drip to the floor. Josh was trembling in anger, or despair; Robert couldn’t tell which.

All he wanted to do was explain why he hadn’t shown… why he hadn’t called. Because Josh meant the world to him.

"Listen to me," he pleaded in desperation and caught Josh’s sleeve as he paced past, refused to let go even as Josh’s palm connected with the side of his face. Tears stung his eyes, but he bit the bullet and tightened his grip on his friend’s sleeve.

"Let go," Josh commanded in a snarl and Robert met his fiery hazel gaze, felt the fury building and beginning to peak, but he would not. He couldn’t.

"Josh, please…" he insisted desperately, "Please don’t—"

"I don’t want to see you ever again, you lying son of a bitch," Josh seethed through clenched teeth. He shoved Robert back and whirled on his heels like a fleeing dog. He flung the door to the back gardens open and disappeared from sight.

****

Passion. Warm kisses and the sound of breathing heavy in his ears. Inflamed nerves, sensitized to every touch, every thing that even came near his skin. When was the last time he had felt so complete, so utterly lost in the bliss that was human contact?

Why, he knew the answer to that question, didn’t he? Seven years ago, wasn’t it? The night that Robert promised, with his whole heart and soul, that he would be there, ready to hold his hand before he left.

And yet he, too, had failed in the end.

Josh stared emptily into the old fountain he had played by so often as a child, watched the murky green water treacherously. How could that bastard be so two faced and then expect Josh to just take him back again? Seven years had come and gone, for the love of God! Josh didn’t have the time to sit around and mope over a man who did not even care enough about him to honor his own promises.

In fact, he didn’t need the selfish bastard at all.

Josh knew a lie when he saw one, and that was the most blatantly obvious of all the lies he had ever told in his entire life. He stared at his own words, watched them ripple into existence in the water of the fountain before being washed away. His life in Florida had been hell on Earth, thanks to his father’s nagging and school and the army. Even though Josh had resigned himself to hate Robert, to seethe at the very mention of his name, he… couldn’t.

He loved him too much.

Love? Sure, that’s what they had made two nights before he had left for America, and it had been the most wonderful sex of his life, not to mention his first time. Rob had been willing and gentle, holding Josh tightly when he cried, kissing away his tears. But was it truly love, or just lust that had pushed them into bed with one another?

It was irrelevant now, Josh realized vehemently. Robert was no longer a part of his life. After his mother’s funeral in three day’s time, Josh would be on an airplane to Russia, away from his dead home and away from the man who had taken his virginity, taken his heart, and then stomped them into the ground like a dying flame.

He wasn’t angry anymore, he admitted at length, only puzzled and deeply wounded. Did he really think that he would be able to walk away from Robert this time without an explanation? Most likely, the answer was no.

The weather was getting colder, and the wind stung him. Josh pulled his jacket around his figure tightly; he had been outside for hours, much longer than he had intended to. But at least Robert hadn’t followed him, which had been his main objective.

But now what? He couldn’t remain at that fountain until his airplane arrived. That would be a ridiculous tact to take. With a sigh, he rose from the fountain and pushed one hand through his hair. Entering that house again would only provoke an encounter with his family, all of whom he could see lingering near the back door watching him anxiously. Josh swallowed and resigned himself to the inevitable fact that this encounter was going to take place, and that he might as well brace himself and get it over with now, rather than later.

****

The interlude with his family had gone quite badly. Those of his relatives who had lingered after saying their final farewells to Josephine had had nothing but contemptuous remarks to fling at Joshua, regardless of how he felt over his mother’s death. "Perhaps if you had come sooner, you might have been able to spare her the pain of holding onto this miserable life. She was only hanging on so she could see you again, and you took your own sweet time in getting here."

Josh never answered. What they said to him never mattered; they were just bodies, moving and speaking and living like bacterium. He would have held an ant in higher esteem that most of his relatives. As the last one, a rather grumpy girl who Josh remembered was his distant cousin, spat on his shoe and left, he was at last alone in the house. Almost.

Alice crept down the stairs slowly and peered around the wall separating her from the kitchen, and of course, her brother. Josh didn’t notice her. He took a seat at the kitchen table and let his head rest in his hands. Returning to England had been a bad decision after all. No one in this pathetic little country missed him, he realized miserably. They couldn’t care less if he dropped dead and was picked apart by carrion birds. A distant part of him remembered his mother and her demise, but he could not bring himself to acknowledge it just yet. No, don’t think about that. This bleak, miserable abyss of self-pity was far better than dwelling on the fact that his mother was gone, never to smile upon him again.

"Joshua?"

"Go away, Alice," he snapped caustically. "I don’t think I can handle talking to anyone right now."

"I just wanted to tell you that Robert is—"

Josh slammed his fists down onto the kitchen table and a little bit of the brandy he had poured himself sloshed over the glass. He clenched his fists and jaw, then turned a set of violent hazel eyes upon his younger sister. She shied from him, fear in her own eyes.

"I don’t care. If it has to do with Robert, keep it to yourself. That bastard means nothing to me, do you understand?" Josh’s voice lowered acidly. "Nothing."

"You lie, Josh!" Alice accused him as tears brimmed at her lashes. She stormed into the kitchen and snarled, "You lie! Don’t think I didn’t see the way you behaved around him. You still have that glimmer in your eyes; you’ve always loved him, and you always will."

"I hate him!" Josh argued and rose swiftly, overturning the chair he had been sitting in. He started towards his younger sister malevolently and narrowed his eyes. Alice backed away from him until the wall was up against her back, her breath coming quickly. Josh stopped before her, lifted his hand—and then stared at her.

Alice. His little sister flinched away from him, choking back her own whimpers of despair and fear. Joshua stared at her in bewilderment and couldn’t help but wonder why she refused to meet his gaze when he whispered, "Alice?"

"You may hate me, Josh," Alice answered him despairingly. She lifted her slender hands to wipe her eyes. "You may hate Da, you may hate the rest of your family, and you may hate your entire life and self, but you don’t hate Rob. You never did. But you never gave him a chance to explain himself either."

"What is there to be explained?" Josh demanded bluntly and bitterly. He dropped his hand and smirked, a malign smile turning up the corners of his lips. "What was I to him? A quick fuck and then nothing more? He’s a con-artist, Alice, and I was just one of his victims."

"That isn’t true, Josh," Alice insisted. She reached out for him, wanting to hold him and pet his hair as she had done years before, but Josh refused her touch by growling, "Don’t touch me." Josh stepped away from her and slumped into the one righted chair at the table.

The silence was filled with tension that oppressed her. Alice lifted her still trembling hands to her eyes again and wiped away the tears at her lashes. Josh had always had a hateful, mean streak in him that only Robert had been able to pacify, sometimes at his own expense. Josh wasn’t intentionally cruel, most of the time. Alice loved him dearly and knew that he loved her, and yet when he turned her aside so coldly, retreated into the deep recesses of his inner self, she couldn’t help but wonder; what had happened to him during his years in America that had changed him so much?

Then, she didn’t care if he heard her or not. She spoke carefully, though her voice was tremulous and unsure. "He was unloading groceries from his mother’s car. The bags were in the trunk."

"Alice, don’t—"

"The catch holding the door up slipped, and the trunk door landed on his head," Alice went on unerringly, though she stammered only briefly as Josh interrupted. "He went into a coma, Josh. When his mother finally wondered what was taking him so long to bring in the groceries, it was thirty minutes later. He’d lost a pint and a half of blood." She paused to watch Josh’s profile, then said stiffly, "He woke up a week ago. He was in the hospital all this time, growing frail and pale, while you stayed in the states and pouted like a schoolboy. When he woke up, the first thing he said was, ‘Did I miss his flight?’ His mother broke down into tears."

Josh sat, transfixed in his chair. Alice pushed herself away from the wall behind him and took a hesitant step nearer. The tears coursing down her cheeks were genuine, matching similar ones that had not yet left Josh’s eyes. "Is that a good enough reason for you, Joshua?"

Josh winced at the fury behind the petite girl’s words, but more so at the truth of her statement. He lifted his hands up to cover his ears, but even that could not conceal the thunder of his heart in his skull. It pounded like a slave driver’s drum, boring into him and forcing down his shields, baring to the world everything that he had fought for so long to keep hidden away. Josh scrambled to gather his thoughts, but could not. He slumped to one side, out of his chair, and toppled onto his side, where he curled into a fetal position and lay still.

He didn’t cry, which disturbed Alice greatly. She had started forward to catch him, but when he fell so limply without any attempt to stop himself, she had caught herself. He lay still on his side, gazing at where the back door led out to the garden. She could not find a trace of her brother in his eyes.

"Josh?" she whispered feebly.

****

When he awoke, the sunlight was streaming through his open window and across his eyelids. He cringed as the bright light blinded him temporarily, and he rolled over in his bed and buried his face in the sanctuary of sun-warmed pillows.

A cool hand touched his bare shoulder, and Josh realized he was without clothing. Tensing, he chanced a glance over his shoulder and stared at Robert, at his pallid cheeks and thin hair. The blonde watched him uncertainly, and his reddened cheeks indicated that he had spent a great deal of time crying. He met Josh’s gaze and swallowed.

"You went into shock last night," he said, and his voice cracked. "Alice called me and… I’ve been here… Josh, please, let me explain…"

Josh pushed himself into a sitting position and bunched the sheets around his waist, then reached out quite suddenly and grabbed both of Robert’s arms. The blonde man stammered a slight question, but fell silent as Josh pulled him near, then into his arms. It was awkward, more so for Robert than Josh, for Robert was quite literally sitting in his lap. Josh let his eyes close and rested his cheek on Robert’s shoulder, his arms draped over his back and waist. "Alice already did," he whispered into his ear.

"She…" Robert began with no actual intent as to where his words were going, and he stopped just as abruptly. Josh drew him a little closer and pressed his lips against the pale stretch of Robert’s throat, cracked his eyes open at the short little gasp that escaped his friend’s lips.

"Rob," he murmured quietly and traced his fingertips up the familiar territory of Robert’s spine, wanting the barrier of thin fabric between his fingers and Robert’s flesh to disappear. He brushed his lips over the corner of Robert’s jaw and whispered to him again, "I’m so sorry… I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done…"

"Don’t worry about it." Robert lifted his thin hands up to frame Josh’s face and met his eyes. The hazel that greeted him was forlorn, hurt, and distraught. Robert closed his eyes and remembered those eyes from seven years ago, although it seemed like yesterday to him. "Don’t worry about anything ever again."

Josh tilted his head back slightly with Robert’s hands and closed his eyes as Robert kissed him. It was a delicate touch, a soft caress of mouth to mouth, spirit to spirit, and it ended as soon as it was initiated. Robert embraced him, intimately wrapping his arms around Josh’s shoulders and back.

Josh opened his eyes and slid his fingers into the blonde man’s thin hair, kissed his forehead, and murmured with mirth, "You still drive me crazy, you know."

"Do I?" Robert answered warmly and smiled. "I would have thought that you’d find some man in the barracks whom you had more in common with."

"Doesn’t matter whether or not I did, because I left the army." Josh lay down on his side and pulled Robert with him. The other man pressed up against him and kissed his mouth slowly, tracing his fingers along Josh’s jaw affectionately.

"One day," Robert whispered and gazed into his eyes, "when we’re dead and gone, I want the world to know that you were mine, and I was yours."

"All right," Josh replied, for he knew no other way to reply. Thinking that Robert might leave his side ever again made his entire being throb in pain. Robert would never part from him again, of this he was certain. Josh leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, then the ridge, and each of his eyelids. "Rob," he said softly.

"Yeah?" Robert whispered in response. He closed his eyes to Josh’s attentions, arched his back as one of the man’s hands slid underneath his button-up top and over his sensitized back.

Josh nuzzled his cheek slowly, then pressed his mouth to Robert’s again and smiled to himself as Robert opened up to the kiss. He had been intending to say, "I love you," but words were not needed then.

‘Since when have words ever been necessary between us?’ he mused with a slight smile. Beside him, Robert gave a weak laugh as Josh’s fingertips tickled over his ribcage.

****

The house was abandoned and dilapidated, although that was no change from when it had been inhabited. The white of its exterior was moldy and discolored, its roof a homely sight with holes in it. The windows were no more, and the door was hanging off its hinges.

Off to the side of a half torn down swing set was a bench of concrete. A middle aged man sat there with a book in his hand, the bifocals upon his nose set low to allow him to read. His flaxen hair was sent flying awry as a breeze rippled over the moors. With a slight sigh, Robert lifted his gaze up to the sky and watched the gloomy clouds surge overhead; it was going to rain.

"Well," he said to no one in particular, "I guess I’ll be heading home then." He let one hand rest upon the concrete bench and then stood up to regard it. Engraved upon the back rest in calligraphy that Robert himself had crafted was the following: