Everybodys Wounded

Everybody's Wounded Part II

How the Light Gets In Chapter 8

"Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the plane comes to a complete halt at the terminal."

Like his fellow passengers, Luc had already unfastened his seatbelt, though the plane was still a long way from the terminal. He was probably the last to do so; preparing as he was to be met by Scott and Josh and the reality of seeing them together – together -- had made him slow and reluctant. By the time he forced his fingers to release the latch, everyone around him had already pulled out their flip phones and BlackBerries, frantically reconnecting to the world.

Luc turned on his Ipod and did his best to ignore their bump and shuffle. His injured wrist throbbed; he reached into the heavy black sling to rub absently at his fingers.

The sling was really more for protection than support. At home he'd stopped using it, trusting to the splints and bandages. His mother had suggested he use it for the trip – to protect against crowded jostling, and as a memory aid. The restraining black canvas and Velcro straps not only alerted the airline employees to his need for assistance, but forced him to pay his hand the attention it required. While he'd hated the suggestion at first, he now admitted it was good idea, and he was grateful for it.

His hand was still immobilized, though he carefully exercised his thumb and first three many times over each day. On Tuesday, he would meet with his Halifax surgeon. The splints and bandages would come off, and rehab would begin.

The tough stuff.

At least he knew he was healing. A few short weeks ago, his ring and baby fingers had been completely numb, absent, impossible to feel and almost equally impossible to move. Sensation had returned slowly, initially as a horrid sense of sharp, deep needles in response to even the slightest touch or movement. Mostly the pain had subsided, however, and now the sensation, while far from normal, had settled more to uncomfortable tingling than real pain, and he had mastered the small amount of movement his undamaged fingers were permitted.

Though he knew that rehab was going to be painful, he was actually looking forward to it. Especially to the pain, as unlikely as that seemed. He knew he was responsible for the damage – and now he was determined to do everything in his power to heal it. It gave him a goal, a reason.

Besides, physical pain was distracting.

It was the other pain he was still not ready to think about. The emotional pain he had promised to begin unravelling with a psychiatrist. He shoved that thought away, and once again touched his splinted fingers gently.

What would it be like, the pain?

Bad, he'd been told.

Which had to mean worse than last time.

Last time.

Three years ago.

The same poor hand.

Was that why, he wondered, it was his left wrist he'd attacked? Because it was his left wrist that Daniel had damaged?

That time, it had been broken bones. His last three fingers ... and his wrist.

But they'd been uncomplicated breaks, and as far as he remembered, the healing had been pretty straightforward. A few weeks in splints and then a matter of coaxing the unused muscles back to life. He didn't remember the pain of it being so bad. But then, he didn't remember much about that black, black time. Perhaps his fingers had been in agony, and he just hadn't noticed. So much of him had been numb. Numb, or in so much silent pain that damage to a few slender bones hardly penetrated the blackness.

Daniel had been gone, and nothing else mattered.

Did it matter even now?

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Buckley singing in his head, but somehow neither the words nor the music could make it through.

They met when Luc was six and Daniel five – in the dressing room of the neighbourhood hockey arena. Luc had suddenly taken it into his head that he wanted to play on a team like his older twin brothers Robert and Micha, and though he was not an athletic child and had shown little interest in sports in general or hockey in particular, his parents had cheerfully signed him up.

He'd had some basic skills. The twins, who were ten at that point and accomplished competitive players, had made sure of that. He could skate, and shoot a puck, and catch a pass. He wasn't altogether hopeless – he just didn't have their natural talent and strength. But there was a boy on his team who did. A tall, big-boned English kid with a shock of straw blonde hair and eyes grey as fog.

Daniel Meyer.

The first time they met, they were getting into their hockey equipment, side by side in the change room. Both twins were there to help Luc (and both his parents were waiting outside to watch him on the ice), but there was no one there to help Daniel. His father had dropped him off, and left.

"Papa will be back to see me play," said Daniel, in French, but with a heavy English accent. "He had some `portant things to do first."

Daniel's father would always have to do some important things to do first. He was a successful, self-made man; he owned a construction company and trusted no one. Daniel didn't have a mother; Luc would hear later that she'd not been married to Daniel's father, and had left when Daniel was a baby. Daniel was raised by his father and a string of housekeepers, none of whom stayed long.

The twins had stepped into the breach.

"We'll help you," said Micha, switching to English, and he and Robert did what would become routine for the next couple of years: Micha helped Daniel and Robert helped Luc, fastening Velcro, adjusting straps, tightening skate laces. Laughing and teasing and generally being the basically kind and goofy big brothers that they were.

And from that day on, Daniel and Luc were inseparable.

It was on the surface an unlikely friendship. It wasn't just that Daniel was English. He was also as unlike Luc as a child could be. He was a big, strong, naturally athletic kid, and though he was a year younger than Luc, he seemed the elder. Not just because he was bigger and stronger; he was also more outgoing, more confident, much, much more aggressive. A natural leader.

Luc was totally captivated by him. Though he never understood why, Luc knew even as a small boy that Daniel had chosen him, and it meant the world.

Now, sitting on the plane as it crawled towards the terminal, it seemed to Luc that not only had he always loved Daniel, but he'd always been in love with him as well. It's just the way it was.

For years, of course, it hadn't mattered. They'd been children, young boys, and the love was easy and natural and unspoken. Only when adolescence came did that begin to change. It was the only secret Luc had ever kept from Daniel, the secret of his confusion, his uncertainty, and then...of his certainty. And then the sad, sad knowledge in his heart that he could never tell Daniel this new, startling truth.

He'd intended never to tell Daniel, and he never would have, except that Daniel --.

It was three years ago, Boxing Day, just after one of Daniel's hockey game. Luc was 16 and had long stopped playing himself, but 15 year old Daniel was captain of a triple A team, and Luc was almost always there to cheer him on. Daniel's father was working somewhere, wouldn't be back til evening he'd said, so the twins, home from university for the holidays, had driven them to an arena in the suburbs, and promised to be back to pick them up in two hours.

Daniel had all new equipment that day– a Christmas gift from his father. When the twins had commented on it, Daniel had just shrugged.

"It's cool," he said. "I picked it all out myself. I bet my dad will never even watch me play in it."

The two teams were tied for first, which meant for a rough game. At the beginning of the second period, Daniel took a dirty hit, and went down hard. Even as the referee was blowing the whistle for the penalty, Luc saw the boy who hit him bend over and say something.

Whatever it was, Daniel, who rarely fought, came up swinging. He was completely, totally out of control, overcome by an outburst of fury that led to one of those gloves-off, helmets-off, bench clearers. Daniel had to be pulled off the other boy by three of his own teammates, and by the time it was over, there was red on the ice. Both boys were given game misconducts and sent to their respective dressing rooms, the other boy with his nose dripping blood.

Luc waited for a few minutes to see if any of the coaches would follow Daniel, but when none did he headed to the dressing room.

There was no answer to his knock, and Luc went in to find Daniel slumped on the bench, still in full gear except for his helmet and gloves, which were lying on the floor. He even had his skates on. His head was bowed and the thick straw-coloured hair stood up in sweaty spikes.

Luc dropped to the bench beside him.

"What happened?" he asked. "I saw him say something. What was it?"

Daniel just shrugged.

"Come on, Dan," he said, nudging his shoulder. "What did he say to make you that mad?"

Slowly, Daniel had turned to him, and to Luc's dismay, he saw that his friend's eyes were red and his cheeks tear stained.

"Daniel?"

"He – he called me a fag,"

Luc swallowed hard. He knew what the English word meant. "Oh come on," he said. "They say things like that on this ice all the time. You know that."

"But—"

"What?"

Their eyes locked and held.

"He – he called you a fag."

And Luc had felt like his world was shattering.

He wanted to laugh it off, to deny it, to say...something. He couldn't. He just sat there, trapped by Daniel's red-rimmed eyes.

Luc rubbed at his aching fingers, gnawed at his lip. Daniel had been afraid of it all. It was the fear that had been real, overwhelming. What had happened next – the good part, the magic part of what had happened next – and been only an interlude, an illusion.

How long would this damn plane take to get to the terminal? This was too much, too much...

They sat there like that for a long time, just looking at each other. Neither of them said a word. The silence was broken only by the buzzer signaling the end of the period, which they could hear even in the dressing room. A minute later the door burst open and Tyler Craig, the team manager, dashed in. Ty was a young guy, a McGill student from Calgary, and all the guys on the team thought he was great.

"What the fuck was that all about, Dan?" he demanded.

"Kid was an asshole," said Daniel. Luc saw him swallow hard, but his voice sounded casual enough. "He took me out on purpose, no reason at all. There wasn't even a play. It just – fuck, I don't know. I just lost it."

Ty just shook his head. "But the ref saw it, man. He was getting a penalty. You know better than that."

"Yeah." Daniel nodded. "I know. Sorry."

Ty looked hard at him for a moment, and then he grinned "Yeah well. Shit happens." He leaned over and wacked Daniel's shoulder.. "Get showered and changed and keep your ass here. Coach wants to talk to you after the game. You know this'll probably cost you a couple of games suspension."

Daniel just nodded, and the Ty left the change room, grinning swiftly at Luc on his way out.

Daniel began to shuck his heavy equipment, pulling off his jersey and tossing it into the huge black equipment bag. Luc had watched him do this so many times. Now, he got up to leave.

"Stay," Daniel said.

"No, I'll wait for you outside. I'll meet you --."

"Stay," Daniel said again, softly this time, uncertainly. Not like Daniel at all.

So Luc, against his better judgment, leaned back against the wall and stayed. His heart pumped painfully and there seems to be a black rush in his ears as the elbow pads came off, the shoulder pads, the thin undershirt Daniel always wore beneath them. Luc stood there and watched -- careful to do so without really seeing. Even when Daniel pushed off his suspenders, his naked chest, already surprisingly muscled for a fifteen year old, was nothing more than a pale blur.

It was only when Daniel bent over to undo his skates that Luc had given in to the almost unbearable urge to look, to really look. He couldn't help it. It was the curve of Daniels back, his bowed head, that finally did Luc in. It just struck him as so – perfect, so – beautiful, so --.

Remembering it now, waiting for the damn plane to make the terminal, Luc's breath once again caught in his throat. It had just been so very perfect, the line of Daniel's spine. In memory, it was still perfect.

He remembered how Daniel had suddenly looked up, and he hadn't been able to look away in time.

He remembered how their eyes had met, locked, how the two of them had both frozen in an instant of sudden, complete recognition.

He remembered how Daniel had stood up, how the heavy black hockey pants had dropped to the floor and Daniel had stepped out of them, how he had stood there barefoot, in a jock, black garters and heavy red and black hockey socks, and how he had stepped towards him, stepped towards him --.

He remembered how suddenly Daniels arms had been around him, and Daniel's head had dropped to his shoulder, and mostly he remembered how Daniel had wept.

"I don't understand this," Daniel had sobbed into his shoulder. "I don't understand. I don't understand."

Luc's jacket had been open and the heat of Daniel's touch seemed to burn through his wool sweater. The naked skin of Daniel's back felt like hot, damp silk beneath his hands. It was terrifying and wonderful and Luc had done the only thing that he could think of doing: he'd pulled Daniel against him, and held on, just held on, hugging his friend fiercely.

"I don't understand either," he wanted to say.

He had no idea whether the feeling overwhelming him was tremendous joy or tremendous dread. What he did know was that he didn't seem to have any choice in what was happening, or in what would happen next.

Eventually Daniel pulled away from him and sniffled hard. "I gotta shower and talk to my coach," he said. "You wait, ok? Come back when he leaves?"

Luc had just stared at him.

"Please?" Daniel pleaded.

Shaking, unable to move, Luc couldn't bring himself to speak. He dropped his eyes to the floor. The change room, with its familiar smells of teenage sweat and stale beer, was silent.

He felt the heat of Daniel's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Regardes-moi," Daniel ordered softly, "Look at me."

Luc had been so surprised that he raised his head. Daniel never spoke French to him. English was their thing.

He looked up, and into Daniel's eyes, and lost himself in that fog-grey gaze.

What he saw there scared him. He saw what he felt himself. The same want. The same fear.

They stood like that, frozen, until Luc raised his free hand, and wiped the tears from Daniel's cheeks with his fingers. Then he'd felt himself pulled forward, hard and fast.

Daniel was always braver than Luc, always stronger. As Luc stood so uncertainly, he felt Daniel's other hand reach up, circle his neck, push strong fingers underneath his heavy sweater. And then he felt Daniel's hand was burning against his skin, Daniel's fingers were tighten on the back of his neck. Luc could only stare, trembling from the touch of those strong fingers, the firmness of their grip, their determination, their bravery.

Never breaking eye contact, Daniel slowly, slowly, lowered his head, until their breath mingled. Luc's brain shut down. When Daniel's eyes fluttered shut, and Luc felt the touch of Daniel's lips against his own, he closed his eyes and kissed him back.

It was the most perfect kiss, uncertain, clumsy, and it went on and on until Luc thought he would die from it. It was only when he felt Daniel's tongue press against his mouth, and heard the soft, wanting sound that slipped from his own lips, that he stepped back uncertainly.

Daniel's grip on his wrist tightened. "Say you'll come back in here," he said. It was a question as much as a command. Luc remembered noticing how deep his voice was already was, a man's voice, and how it had sounded low and amazed.

Luc nodded.

He knew he was lost.

And lost now in the memory of it, Luc was startled by the sudden sharp voice over the sound system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. There was a lot of fog in Halifax this morning, which means there's a bit of a back up at the terminal. They're asking us to wait out here for another five minutes or so. Please stay in your seats with your seatbelts fastened until we get there and the seatbelt sign goes off."

Luc reached beneath his seat with his good hand and pulled out his laptop, carefully placing it on the seat beside him. Five more minutes. Five more minutes. Then he had to brave the terminal, where Scott waited for him.

Scott and Josh.

He had, of course, waited for Daniel. He hadn't much choice of course– the twins were picking them up, after all. But that wasn't what Daniel had meant, and they both knew it.

Though it had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to think of that afternoon, Luc remembered it in perfect detail. His parents had invited Daniel to dinner and to spend the night, since it was a holiday and otherwise he'd be alone; the current housekeeper had gone home to the Philippines for the holidays, and his father wasn't expected home until late evening. Instead of heading straight there, however, Daniel had asked Micha to drop the two of them off at his place instead.

"I want to get rid of my equipment, and take another shower – those ones at the arena suck," he'd said. "We'll walk back to your place later in the afternoon. Be there for dinner. Promise."

There was a part of Luc that wanted to go home with his brothers, that did not want to know where Daniel would lead him. Because it had been clear that Daniel was ready to lead him somewhere. But if part of him didn't want to know where, a much bigger part did, wanted to know, wanted to go there, with Daniel. Because there had always been a part of Luc that would go anywhere with Daniel.

As the twins drove off, Luc followed Daniel into the house, marvelling as he always did at the younger boy's bold stride and easy grace. He loved the way Daniel moved. It was the first thing that made him wonder about his own sexuality – the fact that he was always hyper aware of how Daniel moved. While the other boys whispered about girls, what they looked like, how the felt, Luc had never really noticed anyone but Daniel.

Inside the house, they were both suddenly shy, awkward. In silence, they hung up their jackets and lined up their boots tidily. Luc waited while Daniel took his hockey bag through to the laundry room; he could hear him open it, pull out the equipment and hang it on the stand to dry.

When he returned, Daniel looked at him uncertainly. "Come on," he said finally, leading the way up the stairs. "I gotta shower again. I really hate the arena ones."

Luc just nodded. He knew it was true, not some ruse to get naked. Daniel always complained about arena showers. He always showered again as soon as he got home.

Daniel had a decent electric piano in his bedroom, a gift from his father on his tenth birthday. He'd asked for it on the pretence that he was thinking of taking lessons, but really he'd wanted it for Luc to play.

"I love it at your place, you know I do," he'd said when he'd shown it Luc gleefully. "But there are always people around, and then you do your whole performance thing, and your playing changes. It's different when it's just me listening to you play. I dunno. I kinda think when you play for me it's like you're playing for yourself. "

And it was true, thought Luc, staring out the plane window. Back then, he had loved to perform... But playing for Daniel had always been different. No one listened to him quite the way Daniel had.

Except Scott. .

Anyway, Daniel never did take lessons, and his father never did ask about them. The boys figured he'd actually pretty much forgotten about the piano. It's not like he ever went into Luc's room.

That afternoon, while Daniel showered, Luc sat at the piano. At first he wasn't sure what to play, his fingers tripping the keys uncertainly in little riffs and chords. But gradually he settled into his very favourite piece of Christmas music: Vince Guaraldi's score from Charlie Brown's Christmas. He and Daniel watched it together every Christmas since they first met; he'd been taking piano lessons for a couple of years at that point, but this was the first music that spoke to him as a musician. He'd begged his teacher to teach him bits of it. By the time he found himself in that afternoon, waiting for Daniel to come out of the shower, he'd long known the entire score by heart.

He was completely lost in it and didn't even realize Daniel had returned until he felt a familiar nudge against his thigh. He glanced down to see Daniel sitting, as he usually did, on the floor, arms folded, leaning on the piano bench with his chin resting on his hands. His eyes were half closed and he was smiling. Luc played until the end. Sometimes he sang softly. Sometimes Daniel sang with him.

And then it was over, and he sat, his hands on the keys, wondering what he was supposed to do next. Daniel didn't say anything. The silence stretched out, catlike. Luc stretched out his fingers, then began to tease out a few more chords.

"Don't," said Daniel.

Luc looked down. Daniel was wearing and old pair of sweats, soft grey, and a soft grey T-shirt, and his hair was still damp and spiky from his shower. He was staring at the floor. His elbow, however, was pressed into the top of Luc's leg, and he made no attempt to move it. With every breath, Luc took in the clean, sweet smell of newly washed boy. The way that made him feel was crazy.

"Don't," Daniel said again. "I mean -- you can play, and we can...I dunno...pretend I guess. But I – I think I wanna talk about it. Now." He looked up, and Luc knew that Daniel, normally so certain, so confident, was worried. And a little scared. And very, very determined.

"I don't wanna pretend any more, Luc."

Luc didn't know what to say. Part of him yearned not to pretend any more...but he was so used to pretending. Daniel reached up his hand. Luc held his breath – then did what he always did. He trusted Daniel. He reached his hand down, and trembled as Daniel fingers wrapped around it.

Daniel rose slowly to his feet, then tugged at Luc until he too was standing. Face to face. And then Daniel took his other hand as well.

"Just – tell me, ok? If ... if you're ok with this? Cause if you're not...I mean, if you don't want... God, Luc, just tell me. I need to know. I mean, are you...?"

Finally, finally, Luc looked into Daniel's face, and was immediately captured by those fog grey eyes.

"Luc? Is this what you want too?"

Luc nodded slowly, and as he did the expression on Daniel's face transformed from agonized uncertainty to pure joy.

"Oh God Luc, I thought so, I thought so, but I wasn't sure, and it's been driving me so crazy. You've been driving me so crazy."

He tugged at Luc's wrists, pulling him closer, so they were chest to chest. Then he bowed his head, leaned forward, and once more Luc was lost in the sweet uncertain magic of a kiss.

And more kisses. And then the sweet, sweet wildness of two boys who had been hiding secrets for so long, discovering the magic of being each other's secret, discovering the magic of being just... themselves. What started as sweet, giggly kisses grew harder, hungrier. Tentative fingers grew braver, wilder. And then Luc was beneath Daniel on the bed, skin to burning skin.

Daniel, so very brave now that he knew, touching Luc in ways Luc had never dared to dream of being touched. Daniel's kisses, wild and sweet, raining down on Luc's face, his jaw, down his neck, across his throat as Luc clutched and gasped in awe. Daniel's fingers, tracing skin as if he could memorize it,

And then Daniel's mouth, mover lower, down his chest, his stomach. Luc, his fingers buried in the dark blonde hair, thrilled, terrified, oh God what was Daniel going to do? He couldn't mean to, dear god, he couldn't –.

"Non." Luc sobbed.

"Yes," said Daniel, whispering crazy words as he kissed Luc's stomach, dipped his tongue into Luc's navel. Crazy, brave daring words that Luc had not even allowed himself to think.

"Please, baby," he begged, over and over. "Let me do this. Let me. I've wanted to for so long. Ever since I read about this, I wanted to do it to you. I think about it all the time. Please Luc. Please."

And afterwards two joyous boys entwined together, breathing deeply and feeling free and whole and open as neither had felt for a long, long time. Daniel lay sprawled on his back while Luc lay on his side, curled against him, his head over Daniel's heart. Daniel's fingers played lazily with Luc's curls; Luc stroked Daniel's hip with his hand, amazed at the softness of another person's skin. For awhile they said nothing, as nothing seemed to need saying.

After a while, the cool air against his damp skin made Luc shiver. Daniel grabbed some tissues from the bedside table and cleaned their combined stickiness from Luc's stomach, then pulled Luc close, and the duvet up and around the two of them. Warm and sated, they snuggled and dozed.

A long while later, Luc felt Daniel kiss the top of his head.

"That was so...awesome," Daniel said. "I mean, it's awesome when you read about it, or watch it on the internet, but --. I dunno. Real is...so much more. I mean, real and...and with you."

Luc was – shocked. Daniel had been reading about this? WATCHING it on the internet? Luc had no idea... He didn't know what to say, so he turned his head a little, kissed Daniel's chest. His skin tasted slightly of salt and smelled sweetly of clean boy. Daniel's groaned softly, and his fingers tightened in Luc's hair.

"Well?" said Daniel after awhile.

"Well what?"

"Was it what you imagined?"

"I – never dared to imagine that," Luc admitted softly. "I never let myself think that far." He felt Daniel's hand slip down his hip.

"How far didja let yourself imagine," Daniel asked, trailing his fingers to the front of Luc's body, and bending his head to kiss Luc's ear.

"Kissing you," Luc admitted softly, shuddering has he felt the flick of Daniel's tongue. "Sometimes – sometimes I let myself imagine what it would be like to be kissing you. Sometimes I – I even dreamed of kissing you."

"C'mere," Daniel growled, pulling Luc upward. "You can do that. I want you to do that. C'mere and kiss me like you imagined."

With Daniel tugging at him, Luc eased himself up the bed, until he was lying full length on top of Daniel's much larger frame. Everything else was forgotten as Daniel's hands slowly caressed his back.

"Kiss me, baby," Daniel whispered against his moth. "Like you dreamed. Kiss me like you dreamed."

Luc propped himself on his elbows and looked down into Daniel's face, the familiar broad brow, softly curved mouth, fog grey eyes. He was filled with wonder. This was everything he'd dreamed. Daniel, wanting him like this, loving him like this. It was everything . Everything.

Slowly, like a dream, he lowered his mouth to Daniel's, let their lips touch. Someone groaned a beautiful soft groan.

Luc felt Daniel's hand slide up his arm, his shoulder, Daniel's fingers stretch up into his hair.

"Kiss me, Luc" Daniel whispered. "Really, really kiss me."

His lips were parted and his breath was hot and deep and sweet. Luc shuddered and sighed and ... dared.

He dared.

On the strength of Daniel's whispered command, Luc licked his way into Daniel's mouth, and found there the welcome his heart seemed to have been seeking forever. Daniel's mouth was warm and open and sweet, so very sweet. After what they had just done together, this was a kiss, just a kiss, and yet it was so...so...so everything he had ever wanted.

It seemed to go on and on, this wondrous exploration of each other's mouths. And through the daze of it, he was aware that, beneath the duvet, Daniel's hands were on his hips, holding him close, and Daniel was pushing up against him, and both of them were again hard and wanting, and the rocking together took on the rhythm of the kiss between them, or the kiss took on the rhythm of their rocking hips...

And surely, surely, something wonderful was about to happen, something daring, something bold. Luc felt free in a way he never had before, dazed with the beauty and the surprise of this afternoon, and ready, more than ready, for wherever Daniel wanted to lead him, because he trusted this kiss, and he trusted the years of their friendship, and beyond all things he trusted Daniel.

Until Daniel's bedroom door had been thrust open, and the fury of Daniel's father had overtaken them, and washed them both away.

And then an opening door and a deep voice. "Dan -- what the fuck?"

Luc lifted his head, and the two boys froze.

Luc cringed as a heavy hand bit into his shoulder.

"Get off my son, you fucking faggot."

Before he could do anything, he was pulled roughly away from Daniel, and thrown to the floor. He looked up to see Daniel's father, a large, heavy set man, towering above him. He grabbed desperately for the duvet, trying to cover himself, as a flood of obscenities exploded into the room.

And then Daniel's voice, shaking, frightened. "Dad. Please, we—"

Luc cringed as Mr. Meyer's hand lashed out, and Daniel's head cracked back against the headboard.

"Not a word," Mr. Meyer said. "Not a fucking word. I will not have a faggot for a son. Do you hear me? I will not have a fucking faggot for a son."

Daniel was crying. "Dad-."

"Shut up." He hit him again.

Then, as Luc watched, he grabbed Dan by the arm and dragged him off the bed and towards the door. At fifteen, Daniel was already six feet tall, but his father was taller, and much heavier. Naked and screaming hysterically, Daniel suddenly seemed to Luc to be a little boy again.

"Stop it!" Luc screamed. "Leave him alone."

When Mr. Meyer turned on him, the fury in his face was a force darker than anything Luc had ever known.

"You," he said, thrusting one finger in Luc's face while he shoved Daniel out of the room with his other hand. "You have two minutes to get dressed and get the fuck out of my house. And if you ever go near my son again, I swear to God I'll kill you."

He slammed the bedroom door behind him and Luc scrambled for his clothes. He didn't cry – not then, he was too shocked to cry – but when he left a couple of minutes later, he could hear Daniel pleading with his father, crying almost hysterically.

The walk from Daniel's house to his own was about 10 blocks. Hatless, gloveless, coat wide open to the bitter Montreal afternoon, he'd walked maybe three when a car pulled up and his father and the twins poured out. His father took him by the shoulders, asked him how he was, studied his face.

"Daniel's father called," he said softly. "You are all right? You are not hurt?"

Luc was too shocked to speak. His father knew. The twins knew. He stared down at his boots. He was shivering.

Finally his father tossed the car key to one of the twins, and bundled Luc into the back seat. "Ici," he said, pulling him into his arms. "Here."

It was then that Luc began to cry. His father held him all the way home.

The plane had begun once more to taxi forward, this time with some determination. Luc, lost in his memory of Daniel and unable to pull himself away from it, bit his lip hard. His father's arms had been so strong that night. So warm. So sure. He didn't know what he'd have done otherwise.

What he did know was that he could not allow himself to get lost in this again. It was over. Yes, there had been an instant in time when he had felt perfectly happy, when he had felt completely safe and completely loved. It was over and done and past, and whatever the magic was, and whatever it could have been, it was long dead and gone. Maybe it had never been real.

`Ok, folks," came the captain's voice once again. "We've just been cleared for the terminal. Just a couple more minutes, and we'll have you all on your way."

A couple more minutes...

Because he had to wait for the flight attendant to help him get his coat from the overhead bin, Luc was the last person to leave the plane. He didn't mind. He made his way slowly to the terminal, even stopping in restroom along the way. Every second was another second of solitude, of preparation.

Scott would be here. Scott and Josh.

He found it hard to believe in Josh.

But Scott... It was stupid, he knew, but somehow he couldn't help feeling that Scott was his destiny.

Scott, who was so much like Daniel...

He remembered the first time he saw Scott, across a lecture hall. The physical resemblance was striking: the size of him, the light brown hair, the fog grey eyes. And then there was that graceful athlete's walk... just like Daniel's.

He told himself it was only an illusion.

He even made a point of studying him, looking for differences.

And of course there were differences. Big ones. It wasn't just that Scott was older; he was also much more serious than Daniel had ever been, more intellectual. And he didn't have that air of exuberance that Daniel did.

But then there was the way he had listened to Luc play the piano that night. Only Daniel had ever listened to him like that, exactly like that.

Luc knew it was stupid, this feeling that he had to get it right with Scott, that he owned it to Daniel somehow, that it was meant to be.

Stupid altogether.

But how was he supposed to change the way that he felt?

Every time he saw Scott, he thought of Daniel. Every glance from those fog grey eyes. Every smile. Every kiss.

And then, that time, when Scott had touched him...

Stupid, he told himself again. He had to get past it, had to see Scott as himself, not as who Daniel might have been.

Had he ever seen Scott that way?

Who was Scott after all, but this nice guy...

By the time he reached the luggage carousels, the rest of his flight had been there for awhile. He was looking for an airport employee to help him get his bag off the belt when saw that Scott and Josh were already there. They hadn't seen him yet. They stood side by side, their heads bent together earnestly. Even from the corridor Luc could see that Scott look worried. As he watched, Scott pulled out his cell and flipped it open. Josh put a hand on his arm, shook his head.

Then Josh looked up and met Luc's eye from across the expanse of floor, Josh's hand grasped Scott's arm and Luc winced. Then he took a deep breath and braced himself. He even tried to smile as he made his way towards them, but it was hard.

"Hey," said Scott, softly, when Luc finally got there. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd made your flight."

"Oui," said Luc. "I'm sorry. I –."

No one knew quite what to say, and the silence stretched out uneasily. It was Josh who broke it. He stepped forward, pulled Luc into a warm embrace, held him for a few seconds, then took a step away.

"Welcome back," he said simply, kissing him lightly on each cheek in the French fashion.

It was as if Scott was somehow released from a spell, and he pulled Luc into that wonderful big guy hug. Luc closed his eyes, and for a few seconds allowed himself to melt into it. He wanted to cry, to laugh, but he just allowed himself to be held in that warm, warm grasp.

When he finally pulled away, Scott was beaming down at him, and the relief in those fog grey eyes was almost palpable.

And Luc couldn't help it.

He fell in love all over again.

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