As I turned the key in the door I knew I�d find darkness on the other side. It was the same as every other day since I�d been back at work. It was the way he liked it � or maybe just preferred it. He didn�t like to see things. Especially himself. I never really knew what he did while I was at work. I guessed nothing. I didn�t know him well before everything happened to him. All I knew was that he wasn�t the type of person happy with just sitting in the darkness, watching his life go by. He�d changed. He�d transformed in to someone perfectly willing to do that.

The door opened to the darkness. I couldn�t hear any sound. Not the TV, the radio, or even his voice - he spoke to himself a lot. I guessed he found it comforting to know that something was there � no matter what that was.

My eyes squinted, trying to see him. I soon gave up and switched on a lamp near the door. �Sorry I�m late. Some kid got caught shop lifting in town,� I said, still looking for him. My eyes washed across the apartment and finally found him.

He was asleep - lying peacefully on the sofa. I couldn�t help but smile. When asleep he was fully relaxed. Only the odd nightmare disturbed him. I felt guilty for being home late. I loved to hold him when he slept, and I knew he liked it too - no matter how much he�d deny it to my face. I quietly put down my things and wandered over to the sofa. I crouched down in front of him and stroked his hair. He never reached deep sleep without knowing I was nearby � his guard was always up, so he immediately started to wake. I gently kissed his forehead � letting him know, without words, that it was me.

�I�m sorry I�m late,� I whispered. �I couldn�t help it. I tried to get home but some kid needed a lawful scare.� I carried on stroking his hair as I spoke soothingly, pulling him gently from his light sleep. His eyes were still closed. �Have you been okay?� I asked. He silently nodded. He didn�t like speaking much � only to himself. He liked being spoken to, to be reminded that he wasn�t alone and that he was safe. I rarely got a reply. �Have you eaten today?� I asked. I knew the answer before he even moved. �Jack, you have to eat. I can�t be here all the time.�

He whispered that he was sorry. My heart melted. I told him that it was okay and that he needed to start looking after himself. I knew that he was genuinely tired when he refused to open his eyes. �I�m going to go to bed. Are you coming?� His response came in the form of a groan.

I half carried the sleep stricken form into the bedroom, and began to undress him. Then was the perfect chance to put my worried mind to rest. I checked his arms and legs for traces of any new slash marks. I moved his form carefully � not wanting to fully wake him. He wouldn�t have appreciated me searching him � though he was getting used to it. I sighed as I saw no traces of anything to worry about.

�See,� he whispered. That made me smile.

I was finally ready for bed. I undressed and slid under the covers � reaching out for him and pulling him close. I held him there until he was once again fully asleep.

It wasn�t a peaceful night though. They rarely were. I woke as a hand hit my face with great force. His whole body was shaking. His legs were kicking and arms were flying. I grabbed him and tried to keep him still � not knowing that I was in fact acting out the role of the monster in his dream.

�I said no. I said stop. I don�t want to,� he kept screaming over and over again. He was crying. I didn�t know what to do. I knew from experience that it was incredibly difficult to wake him once he got to this state. I shook his shoulder lightly, not wanting to put too much pressure on it � knowing his scars hurt him still. His voice was tearing me apart. It was desperate and scared. It reminded me that there was so much that I had failed to save him from. I hadn�t always been there to protect him. He released grunts of pain as he wriggled in my arms trying to get away. His breath was heavy. Just looking at his face, and feeling the way his body was fighting, was a view into the nightmare that he was living. Pain gripped my lungs � I couldn�t breathe. I knew what was happening to him. He was reliving the past in his dream, and I couldn�t wake him.

I whispered his name but it had no effect. I shook him more � that only made him scream.

�Jack. Listen to me. You�re okay. I�m here. It�s Doug. You�re safe.� As I was talking to him he began to calm down a little. The screams faded but he was still crying � still shaking. �You�re okay,� I said over and over, until he stilled. I rolled him from his side to his back and looked down on him as his tear filled eyes opened. I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. He stayed silent. �You�re okay,� I whispered again. He weakly nodded as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. His body convulsed with tears for most of the night. I�m not sure if he actually went back to sleep. I was scared. I knew there were things that he hadn�t told me. I knew he probably wasn�t planning to ever tell me. He couldn�t say the words � that would be confirming that it was real, that it actually happened. His eyes told me everything. They shared the pain and told me the unspeakable tales � without him even realising. I wanted to know everything, but I also had to stay strong for him. It was hard � but he was worth it.

He was still clinging to me when it was time to get up. He still hadn�t said a word. I knew the look in his eyes though. It was obvious fear. I knew that it was going to be a bad day, and my full day at work didn�t help that. He was still in bed when I left. I was almost positive that he wasn�t going to move the whole day, and that would be how I found him when I got home that night � lying, curled up in the bedcovers � tears still staining his soft cheeks. I didn�t like thinking of him like that. But there was a small part of me that enjoyed the thought that he was waiting in bed for me to get home.

I spent all of that day trapped in the police car with Jason. Jason was the wise man of the Capeside police force. He knew everything without being told, he knew when someone was lying, and he knew all about Jack. I swear I never told him anything � or at least never meant to. He had a way of making me talk � even when I really didn�t want to. So�a whole day with him was pretty much my idea of hell. He would stare at my troubled expression, laugh, and say, �Think of me as free therapy.�

It didn�t matter how many times I told him I was completely sound of mind. He would always get me somehow. That day he really pulled out all the stops. �So�how�s your boyfriend doing?� he asked me.

I turned to him slowly, an unimpressed look on my face. �He�s not my boyfriend.� The words came out of my mouth, through my gritted teeth, as an almost growl. I remember that clearly � the feeling of my heart pounding against my chest, for exactly the reason he guessed next.

�But you want him to be,� he taunted. Bastard! How did he do that? Was it really that obvious? That was all that was running through my mind. �Come on, Doug. Don�t lie to me. I�ve sat in this car and made you spill about this anonymous kid that�s staying at yours. I�ve seen the look in your eyes when you talk about him. Don�t deny it. I can tell when you�re lying.� I wasn�t going to say it. I wasn�t going to give in. I was going to remain strong. I was proud of myself for not cracking already. He worked with my dad � it was stupid of me to have trusted him with as much as I already had. Deep down � deep, deep down, I knew he wouldn�t say anything. He wasn�t that kind. �I�ll ask you again,� he said, mocking my father�s interrogative voice. �How�s your boyfriend doing?�

�He�s not my boyfriend.� I looked him square in the eyes and said my repeated line slowly and clearly.

�So�let me get this straight.� He looked at me and began to chuckle at his words. �Sorry about that�I�ll choose my words more carefully next time.� I rolled my eyes. That was the thing about Jason. He wasn�t mean. There was no cruelty in his words. Just honesty and some care. He said what he thought. I respect him for that. �So, you�re living with him. You sleep in the same bed. You hold him. You kiss him��

That�s when I cut him off. �I don�t kiss him!� I exploded. I sat there, in the driver�s seat, feeling uncomfortable � regretting my outburst. My fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel as I took short breaths. �I don�t kiss him,� I repeated � this time as a whisper.

He looked at me knowingly. �Have your lips ever touched his skin?� he asked me. �I don�t mean, tongue down the poor kid�s throat or anything, just a simple kiss�on the cheek - the forehead.� I remember him looking at me � waiting for an answer. His eyes were burning.

�Okay � yeah. I�ve kissed him. But only like that. Little, affectionate kisses. That�s all. Y�know � when he�s upset, or scared or sleepy.� I can still hear myself trying to justify my actions. �There�s nothing wrong with that. If that�s what he needs there is nothing wrong with it,� I carried on.

It was his turn to jump in this time. �It is when you want something more. Especially when he�s clearly not expecting it, or even ready for it.� He was looking at me again with those damn understanding eyes. I tried to deny it in my head, but the image of Jack sleeping in the exact seat Jason was sitting in then, when I picked him up that first day came back to me. I remember taking him back to my apartment, unsure exactly why I was doing so. Trying to convince myself it wasn�t, even for a second, for a reason that was remotely sexual.

�I don�t want anything more,� I had said weakly. �What could I want? Anything more would be wrong. He needs help - he needs me. He�s so young � a minor, and I�m a cop.� All the reasons I had been telling myself day after day spilled out of my mouth. Reasons why it was wrong to want anything more from Jack McPhee.

�Just because it�s wrong, doesn�t stop you from craving it,� Jason had reasoned. He was right. But I refused to crack. �You can�t tell me that when you lie there at night, you�re not thinking about everything you two could be doing there other than sleeping. I refuse to believe that when you kiss his cheek, you don�t want your lips to wander to his and for him to kiss you back. You want to touch him. You don�t want to look after him � you want to have him, and in every way imaginable. You want him to realize that those looks you give him hold as much lust as they do care. Please don�t bother denying it. I know it�s true.� He spoke dead calmly, watching my cheeks turn red. �And I want you to know that I�m not judging you for it. You�re only human and from what you have said, he sounds like a very attractive boy. Don�t beat yourself up about it.�

It took me a while to work out what he was saying. Was he saying that it was okay to have these feelings if I control them, or was he saying to do something about them? I was confused. I thought it could be a trick. He wanted me to tell him that it was true so he could freak and then run to my dad. If it had been any other guy, I would have thought he�d have this all going out over the radio � trying to embarrass me in front of the guys at the station. I didn�t want this spread round. I didn�t even like Jason knowing. But all he knew was that Jack was some boy. He didn�t know his name, he didn�t know his background and he�d certainly never seen him. I felt a little safer after remembering that.

�Jason, he�s just some kid. I doubt he�ll be staying much longer. He�s better now. He can look after himself � doesn�t need me fathering him. I have more important things to worry about. In fact�� I remember taking a sharp breath. �I�m�I�m going to tell him he has to be out by the end of the week.� I felt such guilt as I said those words. Jason�s face smiled and he nodded.

�You�re making the right decision, Doug. Who wants to be tied down with a kid at home at your age? You�ll feel back to normal after he�s left.� He carried on nodding his head and giving me a reassuring smile. This made me give him one back. Pangs of guilt shot through my body. I was going to be sick. How could I say such things about Jack? My Jack � lying at home in bed, waiting me to come home and hold him. What had I said?

When I got home the lights were off as I�d expected them to be. Every thought of Jack was carried by guilt. I couldn�t believe what I�d said to Jason. I couldn�t believe that I�d made Jack out to be so insignificant. I made him sound like an unwanted visitor that I couldn�t wait to see the back of. I was so angry with myself. I dumped myself down on the floor. I didn�t say a word. I didn�t think I�d be capable. He�d just be asleep anyway. That�s what I told myself.

I flicked the light on and guided my vision towards the bedroom. It took me longer than it should have to see he wasn�t there. The bedcovers where thrown around the room and things were out of place � it was beginning to look like a very lived in bedroom. I then converted my gaze to the sofa to find he wasn�t there either. I thought that was odd. My heart started to beat faster. My eyes dashed to the bathroom to find the door open. No one was in there. It was only a small apartment. How could I possibly have lost him in it?

I looked to the kitchen area. He wasn�t there, but something that worried me was. The door of the cupboard, that I�d made a thing of locking, was hanging open. I thought for a moment that I was imagining it. Why would it be open? How did it become open? I slowly moved towards the cupboard, stopped only when my foot hit something.

I looked down to see a bottle � an empty bottle. A bottle that I knew had been over half filled with vodka before I�d left for work � before it had been removed form the cupboard. My eyes scanned the floor until it saw a hand, limp and lifeless � reaching in the direction of the bottle. The hand connected to an arm, then to a body that I knew well. I saw his pale face � patterned by tear stains. His eyes were closed and lips slightly parted. I froze looking down at him � totally unsure what to do. What the hell had he done? What was he thinking? I could feel myself getting angry, but knew deep down that the anger was at myself and not him. His body remained lying on its front � hopelessly reaching for the empty bottle, while I stood there - unable to move.

After a lifetime of thoughts, my body dropped down next to his heap and scooped him up � like I would a sick child. He didn�t move or make a sound. His skin was burning � his breath intoxicated. I spoke his name over and over � just wanting him to show a sign of life. I started off tapping his cheek lightly, but stopped when I realised my force had increased to a level where I was worried about bruising him. I started to panic. I started to shake his body � desperate for a reaction. I finally got it in the form of a groan.

�Jack, what the hell have you done?� I didn�t get a response. I tightened my grip as he began to slip from my grasp. �Can you hear me?� I kept asking. He couldn�t keep his head up. Looking back I don�t know why I didn�t call an ambulance. I guess I wasn�t thinking clearly. We had our own system. I was there for him. He didn�t need anyone else. I was able to be everything for him. I�d saved him before � I could do it again. I carried on talking to him � trying to get a response. I knew I wasn�t going to get one. He was totally gone. Even on my nights out patrolling the streets I�d never seen anyone so out of it. I know it�s just Capeside, but I have still seen some horrific things. Jack�s whole experience had proven to me that the little hamlet wasn�t as safe as people assumed. It scared me.

He started groaning and heaving. That�s when I carried him in to the bathroom. I held him upright as he was throwing up. He couldn�t do it himself. I held his body with one arm and his head with the other. He was burning up. I wasn�t even sure if he was conscious. He just kept going. Kept throwing up. It was horrible. The noises he was making were horrible. I vowed then and there never to drink again and never let another drop pass his lips. I couldn�t believe the affect it was having on him. When you see kids on the streets you call an ambulance and it�s their problem. You never really see things like this. But then, in my bathroom, it wasn�t their problem; it was mine. Jack was my problem. If I hadn�t left him in such a state that morning, everything would have been all right. Why had I left him?

Even so, that didn�t explain, or excuse what he�d done. If I had been late home, God knows what would have happened. Maybe that was the point. Maybe that�s what he was trying to say. I couldn�t work it all out in my head. When he finally came round in my arms, lying on the bathroom floor at one in the morning � instead of being relieved, I was furious. He stared up at me, with his vacant, �love me because nobody else will� look in his eyes, and I flipped. �What were you thinking? Were you thinking? Why the hell did you do that? I could have come home and found you dead!� I was screaming at him � letting out the frustrations that he, Jason and I had built up in me. He was still in my arms � reeking of alcohol and vomit � the worst combination of things. He was just staring up at me. His expression had changed. Without words he was saying to me, �If you hate me so much let me leave.�

I sat there, on the cold bathroom floor for over an hour staring at his expression � trying to work out if I did hate him, and if I did want him to leave. I was trying to work out if I should do what Jason advised. Jack saw it all. He�d become very skilled at reading me. I knew that if he�d been able to we would have had another of our fights � the ones where I held him and wouldn�t let him leave. Ones where he�d hit and kick and bite and scream for me to let him go � and I�d refuse. That�s when it dawned on me. I was controlling everything. I held the cards. I was the one keeping him there. I wouldn�t let him go. It was me. �I don�t hate you, Jack. I could never hate you. No matter how much I shout my feelings stay the same. I want you to stay. I want you to stay safe.� I whispered those words to him over and over as if they were the only things I could say. That was a start, I guess. All I had to do was tell him that those feelings, that would always stay the same, were actually a whole lot stronger than I was leading him to believe. He wasn�t in the state right then to hear that I loved him.

I carried him into the bedroom and undressed him for the second night in the row. He wasn�t aware of anything that was going on. Stories of people who I�d arrested came back to mind. Men who were put in prison for getting girls drunk and then raping them � hoping they wouldn�t remember a thing in the morning. All those thoughts popped in to my head. I hovered over him � almost certain he wouldn�t remember a thing in the morning. I kept thinking that it was my only chance. I wanted him so bad. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted �like he had been when I found him. The temptation grew inside me. A voice in my head was saying, �It�s now or never, Doug � do it!� My hands were still undressing him. I lifted his shirt over his head. He didn�t moved or make a sound. That�s when I was positive that he wouldn�t remember. It wasn�t as though I hadn�t touched him before while he was sleeping � even sometimes when he was awake and I could hide it simply as an affectionate touch. But what was going through my mind was a lot more than just touching. The policeman in me was yelling at me to stop � the man in me was telling me to keep going. I even stooped so low to think to myself, �It won�t be the first time he�s slept with someone and come round not remembering it.� My mind was running a thousand different thoughts. I�d striped him down to his boxer. His young body was calling to me to touch it. I began undressing myself � still hovering over him. I leaned down and kissed his dry lips � instantly wanting more. My mind was telling me to do it, telling me that he was a tease � telling me that was the reason I�d brought him home to begin with. The other side was telling me he was only a kid � just a young, innocent, kid. I loved him. He meant more to me that a cheap, drunken screw. I didn�t want to think about the word �rape�. I didn�t want to take advantage of him. I wanted him to want me as badly as I did him. I wanted to hear him say my name � over and over. I wanted his lips to kiss me back. I wanted him � not just his body. That shook me back in to the real world. I pulled his boxers back up and redressed myself.

I spent the rest of the night on the sofa � thinking about the conversation I�d had with Jason, about how close I�d come to violating the man I loved. How close I�d come to becoming just another one of those perverted men that I was trying to save Jack from. I was so confused. Why was I acting so unlike Doug Witter?

I knew he was awake. I was still on the sofa. I had my back to him. But I still knew. I heard his crying. It wasn�t sobs, or desperate pants for air. It was almost silent, like he was hiding it from me and didn�t want any attention drawn to it or him. I still knew. I could feel it. The apartment filled with his misery � I just didn�t know why. He hadn�t been like that for weeks. I wanted to know what was going on. I needed to know. That would have meant going over to him though � reaching out and touching him, maybe even holding him, when he fell apart � I was sure he was going to fall apart. It wouldn�t have been the first time either. I was okay with that. I just couldn�t help him like I had before. I couldn�t touch him. I no longer trusted myself � not around him anyway.

It stayed like that for a while. Me sitting with my back to him � leaving him to cry. I think he expected me to go to him � not that he wanted me to. If the night before hadn�t happened I would have gone to him. If he knew that I nearly raped him only a few hours previous he wouldn�t even want to be in the same apartment as me. That�s if he actually believed it. But it had almost happened. It was too close for me to pass it off as curiosity. I wasn�t going to excuse myself like the scum I have to deal with day after day. Suddenly I was glad that I didn�t have to work. How could I look a kid in the eyes and tell him not to speed when I knew I�d almost committed a worse crime? I was not going to come up with reasons to make myself feel better. I didn�t deserve it.

I made the mistake of looking round at him. He was sat, wrapped in the covers � huddled in a little ball. I saw the tears that stained his face. The red streaks were clearly seen on his ghostly white skin. I don�t know what look I gave him. I was frozen � transported back to when I was begging Jack not to take the drugs I was offering. He had the same scared look on his face. I should have realised then that something was really wrong. Maybe if my mind hadn�t kept wandering towards the topic of sex, I would have seen the despair and fear in his eyes � not just the tears. Even under the thick covers, wrapped so tightly around him, I could see he was shaking.

He shuffled slowly off of the bed � the covers still around him. He moved towards me so slowly. Or maybe I was imagining the slow pace. Maybe I was trying to give myself time to get out of what could be a dangerous position. He got to the sofa. He didn�t look at me. I don�t think he could. He was hurting and I was thinking about myself. He let the covers go � leaving them on the floor and gently climbed on the sofa. He was still curled in a ball � edging closer to me. I couldn�t breathe. At a time that I should have just reached out and held him for as long as he needed � talked to him, and asked him what was wrong, I didn�t. I freaked. As his skin touched mine, I shot up off the sofa and headed straight for the kitchen. I swear I heard his life shatter.

This time his crying had volume. I heard as well as felt it. I did that to him. I hurt him that time. I loved him so much that saving him from me still meant hurting him. It was killing me. He needed me. He needed my arms around him. I introduced that type of comfort in to his life and now I was refusing it. I couldn�t look at him. I stood with my back to him and made a cup of coffee. I felt sick. He�d been crying for hours. Why was I letting love stop me from comforting him. I was about to turn back to him and go over when I remembered the night before. I remembered hovering over him, his scent, his look of innocence, and my want. I wasn�t going to do that to him. I couldn�t. I began sipping the coffee � not caring that it was burning my mouth.

�For God�s sake, Doug. He needs you! Help him!� My brain was screaming at me. I couldn�t take it anymore. I turned to him � lying on the sofa, having almost cried himself to sleep again. I couldn�t take the noise of his tears anymore. It was too painful. I walked over � slowly so I had time to figure out the best way to do it. As I approached him I picked up the covers that he�d left on the floor. I wrapped them round him and pulled him up in to my hold. I was okay if there was no skin to skin contact. I could control myself. I hoped. That woke him up mostly. He was crying heavily again. I pulled him on to my lap � covers still around him. He was trying to push the covers out of the way but I wouldn�t let him � I couldn�t. It was a long time before I allowed him to free him arms and hug me back. He was clinging to me.

I rocked him back and forth. �What�s going on, Jack? What�s happened?� I kept asking him. I didn�t get a reply � just more tears soaking my shirt. That�s when I noticed it. How had I missed it before? He had a ring of bruising around the base of his neck. I froze � trying to remember if any of the holds that I had him in the previous night, while he was being ill, could have caused that. No � I couldn�t have done that. Why would I have had hold of his neck? I didn�t. I reached out and brushed a finger across the marked skin. He stared in to my eyes. I couldn�t read what he was trying to say. �Why, Jack?� I whispered. �Why did you do it?� He stopped crying. He was silent for the first time I hours. I couldn�t believe it. I couldn�t believe what he�d done to himself. That was it. I wasn�t going to do this again. I as good as pushed him off my lap and stormed off to the bathroom. I had to wash myself of him � of his lies and self-harming. I wasn�t willing to take anymore. If he wasn�t going to talk, I wasn�t going to have him in my apartment. He was jail-bait to me. Jason was right � he had to go.

What was I going to tell him? I didn�t know - I hadn�t really thought that far ahead. I was just sick of his secrets, his self-harming and most of all I was sick of loving someone who had no interest in me. I guess you could say that I was taking my feelings out on him. But it was killing me. Waking up everyday next to a body I�d never be able to have was killing me. I stood over the sink. My hands gripped the sides and my head was forward, resting against the mirror. I don�t know how long I was there. Long enough to let my tears drain down the plug-hole. Long enough for my knuckles to go white and numb from gripping to hard. Long enough to no longer care. I suddenly felt how Jack must have during his time on the streets � lost, frustrated, drained, depressed. That was it. I couldn�t keep him if it meant him giving me his pain.

I quickly dried my eyes, not wanting Jack to know how much he got to me � the extent of my affections for him. I took a few deep breaths and was about to leave the bathroom when I heard it. Voices. Voices in my apartment? No, I thought I was hearing things. I didn�t have a clue who it could be. I put my ear up against the door, not wanting to open it straight away. I heard a male voice � a very distinctive male voice. I wasn�t paying attention to his words though. All I could focus on was Jack�s crying. Distressed and scared.

�Where�s your boyfriend today then, huh?� I heard the man say over Jack�s sobs.

�He�s�he�s not my boyfriend,� he protested, slightly too strongly for my liking.

�So�he�s not here? That�s good.� I heard the door slam shut, but knew he was still in the apartment. Jack was still in tears. He didn�t give Jack a chance to answer. I heard banging, shuffling movements � struggling. That�s when I knew I had to open the door and see what was happening.

My hands lifted to the lock on the door. That�s when I noticed my hands were shaking. There was more noise � I heard Jack cry out. A lump formed in my throat. Why wasn�t I moving? Why wasn�t I opening the door and adding pictures to the noises? Why wasn�t I doing anything?

�No!� Jack cried. �Stop! I don�t want�� his voice trailed off � turning in to a muffled cry. Why did that sound so familiar? My brain was on over drive � making up for my motionless body. His nightmares! I remembered. Holding him, alseep, but still screaming.

That�s when I burst to life. I wasn�t going to stand back and let him get hurt. I made use of my hands, unlocking and opening the door. I saw him immediately. He was lying on the floor, a man I didn�t know on top of him � hand over his mouth. His desperate eyes spotted me straight away. Begging me to help him. The massive man hadn�t seen me. His head was down, lips attached to Jack�s neck � attacking the bruised skin I�d only noticed earlier the same morning.

I stood in the bathroom doorway, simply staring at the scene in front of me. Tears dropped from the eyes that were staring at me. They were too intense and pained to look at. I cast my gaze on the rest of his body. As one hand covered his mouth, the other was striping him of his boxers. I couldn�t breathe. Looking back to his eyes, I saw in them that he had given up on me helping him. He closed them � blocking me out, as he began to struggle again.

I don�t think I actually stood there long. Maybe only a few seconds. Things were just going so slow. I don�t know what kicked back in first � movement or voice. All I know is I stormed over to him and pulled him off my Jack. I was yelling at him, telling him to get off and leave him alone, demanding to know what the hell he was doing. I threw him back against the wall.

�Keep your hands off him!� Out the corner of my eye I could see Jack pulling his clothing back on and scrabbling up, hiding behind the end of the sofa. He was scared. Who could blame him?

The guy looked back at me in shock. He tried to get back up but I pushed him back down.

�Hey, dude, I didn�t know, all right? If I�d known he was yours I wouldn�t have touched him,� he said deadly serious.

I couldn�t believe it. �What the hell are you talking about? He�s not mine! He�s living here! You shouldn�t have touched him because he said no! He was telling you no! What did you think you were doing?!� I was really losing it. I couldn�t get my head around what I�d walked in on, and was nearly too weak to stop.

�Look, man, I�ll just go, okay? I�m sorry.� He started standing up.

�Stay where you are! Don�t move!� He did as I said. He must have seen the rage in my face. I moved over to Jack, still watching the man. I crouched down next to his shaking body. �What do you want me to do, Jack?� He stared back at me, confused. �One phone call, Jack, and I can have the police here. Dammit, I can arrest him now.� He was still staring at me with his tear filled eyes. �Tell me what you want me to do.�

�Do nothing,� he whispered in his small, scared voice � still crying, still shaking.

�What?� I didn�t understand. I tried to put my arm around him but he backed away. �Jack, he tried to rape you. You can do something about it. You can put him in prison.�

I could see that he was thinking about. He looked up at the man who had previously been on top of him, but couldn�t hold the gaze for more than a spilt second. �No,� he whispered. �Just make him go. Please,� he sobbed. �Please just keep him away from me.� He sank back behind the sofa, not wanting to be seen by anyone.

I stood back up and walked directly to the man whose name I still didn�t know. I kept my eyes on his. That man that he seemed so confident and domineering had turned to jelly at the first mention of the police. �You are very lucky he�s too scared to do anything,� I said sternly. �Now, get out my apartment, and never come near it, or him again. Do you understand?�

�Yes,� he said simply. He grabbed his jacket from the floor. Before going to the door, he tried to get a glimpse of Jack, who was still hidden by the sofa. �I won�t go near him again,� he said to me softly as he walked back through the doorway. I answered by slamming the door.

I stole a few deep breaths before dashing back to Jack�s side. He still didn�t want to be touched. He winced and backed off when I came near him. I didn�t know what to do. Usually when he was upset, I could hold him, keep him in my arms, and even though it took time, he started to feel better. It wasn�t going to work if he didn�t let me do that though. It was almost like a taste of my own medicine. I�d refused to hold him earlier that day, and he was refusing to let me hold him then.

�Okay, Jack. I�m not going to touch you, okay? I�m just going to talk to you.� I looked at him, curled up, pushing himself in to the arm of the sofa, aimlessly trying to shuffle further away from me. �I don�t want you to be scared of me, Jack. Please. I would never hurt you. Sometimes you scare me, and that�s not your fault. Normally it�s nothing to do with you. It�s the way you make me feel.� I felt the tears flowing down my cheeks. He was looking at me confused and still very much scared. �You see�The reason why I get angry, like I did last night, is because I can�t stand to see you in pain. When I think of everything you�ve been through, and things you�ve been too scared to tell me � the pain�it grips me. The pain and the guilt. I can�t breathe when I think of you in pain. When I see you crying, or being hurt, I can�t control myself because I hurt too. It�s like a punch in the stomach. Well, I say that�but it�s not quite the same. I know what it is, I�ve just been too scared to admit it.� He was growing wearier and more confused. I knew it was time. I couldn�t hide it anymore. �Jack, it�s like someone�s�someone�s ripped my heart out.� I knew I was shaking as much as him. I just wasn�t in as much shock.

�No,� he whispered. �Stop it.� He carried on crying. �Don�t say that. Please. You don�t mean it. That�s just something you say when something�s happened to me. You said it last time and I didn�t believe you then. I don�t believe it now either.� Tears streaked him beautiful cheeks and his voice was hoarse from crying and screaming. I just wanted to hold him. He still wouldn�t let me.

�Jack, listen to me. I can�t do this anymore. I can�t deny what I feel, and I refuse to hide it from you. So, whether you�re willing to believe or not, I need you to hear this.� I was determined to get it out. �I love you. There I said it. And I mean it,� I sighed. �I don�t know everything that happened to make you do all this to yourself, or get yourself in to situations that are dangerous, but I just find you so intriguing, Jack. You�re so delicate, but you pretend to be so tough. I know you can�t cope with everything, which is kind of obvious. You�ve been through more crap in the last year than I could ever imagine, and now you deserve some security and care. I want to be it for you. I want to be able to hold you and make sure you�re okay, and share things with you. I want to be able to hold your hand, and lean over and kiss you.�

�You can�t do that,� he sobbed. He had obviously been waiting for a chance to jump in.

�Why not?� I asked simply, like I had no idea what a reasonable response to that could be.

�Because I don�t want you to,� he strained. �I don�t want you touching me or�kissing me.� He was so pale. �I�I don�t want anyone touching me.�

�I know, Jack. I understand that. And I will wait. I can. I will go at your pace. I�d do anything for you.� I was on a roll. I wasn�t going to stop. �You can tell me not to touch you, and you can tell me not to kiss you, I can do that. But you can�t tell me not to love you�I can�t stop loving you, Jack.�

�You have to.� His words shattered me. How could he expect me to turn my feelings off? That�s when I realised, he didn�t expect me too. He wanted me to prove it. I knew he found it hard to trust people, and I was willing to do anything to make him see he could trust me with anything. He trusted me with secrets so far, just not his heart.

�Jack, more than anything, I want you to be safe. I want you well away from the sort of people that are going to harm you, and I don�t want you to be alone.� He was looking at me confused. �So, we�ll move. I�ll move and you can come with me. I�ll get a transfer at work, new apartment. I�ll get you away from all this. I want you to get better and you can�t do that here. I want the old Jack back.�

�You don�t know the old Jack,� he muttered.

�That�s because the new one won�t let me.� I quickly replied. �I don�t want to hurt you and I don�t want to scar you anymore than you already are. I want to make sure that you�re okay and love you with all my heart, everyday for the rest of my life. You can trust me, Jack. I won�t hurt you.� There were more tears on my cheeks. �You can trust me, Jack. I promise. I want to get you away from the bad memories and the pain. Please let me help you.� He was looking at me oddly � obviously seriously considering my offer. �Let me love you, Jack.�

I began to shuffle towards him. He couldn�t move back anymore, but I wasn�t going to trap him. This was down to him. Once again he had all the power. I was always giving it to him. I reached out a hand and touched his cheek, keeping it cupped in my hand. His eyes closed � eyelashes fluttering against my fingertip. For the first time in a long while there were no tears. It was calm. He was calm � passing his calm energy on to me.

�Slowly,� he whispered. I looked it at him � his eyes still closed. �If anything happens�it has to happen slowly. And I mean �if�. I�m not promising anything. I need to know that I can trust you.�

�Jack, you can trust me. I promise. I�ve been here all along, and I will continue to be,� I whispered to him. �Open your eyes, Jack. Look at me.� He did as I asked him to do �his beautiful blue orbs looking back at me hesitantly. �You can trust me.� I don�t know what came over me, but I got an urge. I leant forward, ignoring the fact his eyes were growing large as I grow nearer � maybe with fear, maybe with anticipation. It was hard to tell. I knew I�d reached his face when I felt my lips brush against his. I didn�t add pressure, not wanting to push him too far, so when he did it himself, I was pleasantly surprised. I laid numerous gentle kisses on his soft lips. It felt amazing. I was finally open and doing what I wanted � no hidden agendas, or secret feelings or urges. The Doug that nearly violated the boy the night before died instantly. He was gone. Never to return again. I was freed.

Jack finally pulled away from my lips, falling in to my arms. I held him tightly; hoping the feeling would never go away. He looked up at me with his young eyes. Opening his mouth to say something, he changed his mind and closed it again.

�Go on, say it. It�s okay,� I whispered. I still remember the silky feel of his hair between my fingers.

�Have you ever thought about moving to Canada?� I couldn�t hide my smile as my lips met his again. �I�ve always wanted to live in Canada,� he whispered.

That was six months ago. And when he said slowly, he really did mean exactly that. But that was okay with me, it still is. We packed up and moved. It was really quite simple. For him it was quite literally starting over. He didn�t say goodbye to anyone. He didn�t go back home for his things. He didn�t think about calling his old friends. He was ready. He was ready to leave and be freed from the hell that had become his way of life. But it obviously wasn�t that simple. He could run from Capeside. He could run from the people, and school, and friends and family. He could run to my arms anytime he wanted to, but he couldn�t run from the scars. That�s why I�m here. To love him, to hold him, to comfort him. I�m here when things get too hard for him. I remind him that the scars are who he used to be, and just a memory now. I make it clear everyday that I�ll always be here for him.

The best part though is that I know I�ll always have him. I�ll always be able to come home to him. I�m free to be the person I�ve always wanted to be because of him. I left the parts of me I didn�t want in Capeside. I packed up the parts of my life that I wanted to keep and did as Jack asked � moved to Canada. But the freedom is just an added bonus. The real prize is waking up next to him every morning. Holding him in my arms as he sleeps, and seeing his first smile of the day, which is always meant for me.

I�m not the sort of person who can just forget. That doesn�t help anyone. You can�t repair wounds by forgetting about them. That�s what I�ve lived my life by. It�s been hard. The truth is never easy. But when you wake up with Jack McPhee in your arms day after day, it�s certainly worth the struggle. The truth meant keeping the one thing I love more than the world. I�ve got my dream.

The End