1
A Matter of Time
Chapter One
"Fuck!" Tim stomped into Paul's room and flopped down on the bed.
"What's wrong now?" Paul emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist.
"Nothing." Tim sighed. "Fuck!"
Paul knelt on the side of the bed and began to massage Tim's neck and shoulders. "Yeah, right, nothing.....sure. If you were any more tense the muscles in your neck would snap."
Tim sighed and surrendered to Paul's strong fingers, gradually feeling the tension drain away. He rolled over onto his back and smiled up at Paul. Paul could always make him feel better.
"Thanks, mate. I needed that."
Paul grinned and stood. "Any time." He would have moved away, but Tim reached out an arm and dragged him back onto the bed.
"Don't you want to hear about my shitty day?"
Paul sighed. "I guess so. Can't I at least put some clothes on first?" He was still damp from the shower, and water dripped from his hair.
"You don't have to put clothes on around me, Paul." Tim grinned up at him, running a hand along his thigh.
Giggling at the tickling sensation, Paul stood and disappeared into the bathroom. "I've told you a hundred times....."
"But I can still hope, can't I?" Tim stood and followed Paul, leaning in the bathroom doorway and watching as Paul finished drying his hair with a fresh towel.
"I guess so." Paul grinned and threw the towel at him before he began to smooth shaving cream over his chin, cheeks, and throat.
"God, I love watching you shave." Tim sighed.
Paul laughed. "You are seriously weird, Tim." He glanced at Tim's reflection in the mirror, their eyes meeting. "So tell me about your shitty day." He said, returning his attention to his shaving.
"It wasn't that bad, I guess." Tim said softly, his eyes riveted on Paul.
They were both silent for a few minutes - Paul concentrating on shaving, Tim watching him, his expression dreamy.
As Paul finished up, and splashed water on his face to remove the excess cream, Tim moved to stand behind him. "You missed a bit." He picked up a washer and, reaching around, gently wiped Paul's ear, stepping even closer until their bodies were touching.
"Tim - " Paul stared at him in the mirror, eyes wide.
"Please? Just a kiss?" Tim ran his hands lightly over Paul's shoulders.
Paul shivered under his hands. "I - uh - "
Before he could say anything more, Tim gently turned him around to face him, lowering his head and lightly brushing his lips with a kiss. Paul gasped, and closed his eyes, leaning against Tim's chest, his arms moving instinctively around his waist.
Tim stroked languidly up and down Paul's bare back, enjoying the feel of his warm, smooth skin under his hands. With a low groan, Paul brought a hand up to Tim's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him back with rising passion.
Smiling, Tim pulled him closer until they were pressed hard against each other. When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Paul looked searchingly into Tim's eyes, easily reading the desire there.
Tim could see the hunger and confusion in Paul's eyes, and smiled softly. He leaned down and dropped a feather-light kiss on the tip of his nose. "Thank you." Stepping back, he turned and walked from the bathroom.
Paul stared after him, leaning shakily back against the vanity until he was sure his legs would support him. He heard the door to his room open and close, and knew Tim was gone.
Reaching his own room, Tim stepped inside, and sprawled across the bed, a huge grin on his face. The kiss had been every bit as sweet as he'd fantasized. Hugging his pillow to his chest, he smiled smugly. It was only a matter of time - he knew he could convince Paul to love him as much as he loved Paul. He just knew it.
Chapter Two
Paul emerged once more from the bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed, a dazed expression on his face. He'd always thought Tim had just been teasing when he'd flirted with him. Certainly he'd never thought that there was anything to it.
His lips still tingled from the kiss, and his mind was a whirl of confusion. Kissing Tim had been a definite turn on, but that didn't mean he wanted it to happen again. Although, he admitted very quietly to himself, if Tim hadn't pulled away when he did he had a fair idea of what the kiss would have led to.
Images from long ago invaded his thoughts. With a sound very much like a sob, he staggered back to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. He'd hoped those images and memories were long gone. He'd been wrong.
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Tim hummed happily to himself as he moved around his room gathering up everything he would need for the performance that night. He found himself planning his next move with Paul. He intended to take it nice and slow, and to let Paul realise very gradually how much he meant to him. He wanted a relationship, not just sex.
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Richard knocked on the door of Paul's room when he failed to appear in the lobby as they'd arranged. The taxi was waiting to take them to the theatre.
"Paul?" He called when there was no answer to his knock. He tried the door. It was unlocked. "Paul?" He stuck his head around the door. Paul was asleep on the bed, fully clothed. He looked pale and ill. "Paul, wake up mate." He put a hand lightly on Paul's shoulder.
Paul jerked instantly awake, flinching away from the contact. "What?" He looked up at Richard, panic in his eyes.
"It's only me, mate."
"Oh." Paul relaxed. "Sorry. Must have dozed off."
"Are you okay, Paul?" Richard asked, concerned.
"Yeah." Paul nodded and got off the bed. "Time to go already?" He picked up his bag.
"Yep. Taxi's waiting downstairs." Richard nodded.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Paul forced a smile to his face, but Richard wasn't fooled. There was definitely something wrong, but, knowing Paul, he'd have to pry it out of him later.
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Tim grinned at the two of them as they climbed into the taxi. He was a little disappointed when Paul opted for the front passenger seat, but it didn't really matter.
Richard chatted animatedly on the way to the theatre, laughing and joking with Tim. Paul was unusually quiet, but he sometimes got that way just before a show, so Tim didn't worry too much about it.
By the time they arrived at the theatre, Paul's mood seemed to have lightened a bit as he picked up the excitement from Tim and Richard. It was their opening night at the Festival, and their shows had all been sellouts before they'd even arrived in Edinburgh. It promised to be a big night.
Chapter Three
Once they were in their dressing room, all conversation turned to the show they were about to do. They had quite a lot of new material, and the Edinburgh crowds were fantastic to perform for.
Paul looked warily at Tim a couple of times when he got a bit excited and hugged him, but the others didn't seem to notice, for which he was thankful. He knew that Tim had nothing to do with the images and memories that had returned to haunt him, but he was having a hard time dealing with them. Every time he looked at Tim, another face flashed before him .
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Tim couldn't help but notice that Paul seemed a bit, well, reserved with him. He began to worry that he'd misinterpreted the signals he got from Paul when he kissed him. He'd been so sure that he'd enjoyed it. Maybe he should just back off for a while ..if he could.
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Richard watched Tim and Paul surreptitiously. What the hell was wrong with them? They were acting decidedly weird. First Paul, when he'd woken him earlier in the evening, now the both of them were sort of circling each other warily, almost as though they were afraid of each other. They'd better snap out of it before the show ..
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Paul took a deep, calming breath, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was being irrational, he knew, but the memories were so powerful that they were nearly swamping him.
"Snap out of it, McDermott!" He snarled at his reflection. "It was years ago, and no one else knows anything about it or had anything to do with it. Fucking deal with it!"
There was a knock at the door. "Ten minutes, Paul."
"Thanks, Rich!" Paul called out in reply. He splashed cool water on his face and neck before towelling it off and heading for the door.
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They both looked up as Paul emerged from the bathroom, his face set in a determinedly cheerful smile. "Okay, let's go harrass the good citizens of Edinburgh!"
"They are in sooooooo much trouble!" Tim laughed, relieved that Paul seemed more like his normal self.
"They won't know what hit 'em!" Rich added, picking up his guitar and following them out of the dressing room.
Chapter Four
The performance was well received, although Paul knew he'd screwed up several times every time Tim touched him, in fact. He hadn't been able to stop himself from hesitating or flinching at every contact.
Tim had kept looking at him, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes. By the time they came offstage, Paul was certain that he'd ruined the show. As soon as he could, he bolted for the dressing room. Once there, he locked himself in the bathroom, slumping down into a corner in a huddled ball of misery.
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Tim and Richard followed more slowly.
"What the fuck is wrong with Paul?" Richard asked Tim suspiciously.
"I think it's my fault." Tim mumbled miserably.
"What did you do to him?" Richard demanded.
Tim told him what had happened earlier. "I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself." He finished just as they reached the dressing room door.
"You've got it bad for him, don't you mate?" Richard gave him a quick hug.
"Yeah." Tim sighed. "That kiss was well, it was amazing. I can't believe it would upset him so much, though."
"I don't think it was just that." Richard went on to tell him about what had happened when he'd gone looking for Paul while the taxi was waiting. "When he woke up, he looked scared no, that's not the right word. He was terrified."
"But of what?" Tim asked as he closed the dressing room door behind them.
"Fucked if I know but I think we need to find out." Richard shrugged.
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Paul could hear the murmur of their voices through the door, but he didn't make any move to go and join them. He sat, staring at the wall, but that's not what he was seeing. He shivered, tears rolling down his face as the past claimed his attention once more, blocking out his surroundings and dragging him back into terror.
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Tim knocked on the door to the bathroom. "Paul? Are you okay, mate?" There was no answer. When he tried to open the door, he found that it was locked. "Paul?" He knocked a little harder, a worried frown on his face.
Richard came over to join him. "Paul?" He called out. "Come on, Paul. It's time to go back to the hotel."
They looked at each other in growing concern. All that could be heard from the bathroom was a muffled sound, as if Paul was quietly sobbing.
Tim continued to try and coax Paul out of the bathroom, with no results. Richard's gaze wandered idly around the room as he tried to think of a way they could get him to respond. His eyes fell on the key in the dressing room door. As he walked over to retrieve it, there was a scream from the bathroom.
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Paul stared unseeingly at the bathroom wall, unable to stop the horror of the past from replaying in his head. He jammed himself further into the corner, screaming. "God! No! Stop!"
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Richard grabbed the key and rushed back to the bathroom door, praying that it would work. If it didn't, he had no doubt that Tim would break the door down in his desperation to help Paul.
Tim waited with growing impatience as Richard fumbled with the key, fingers clumsy in his haste. Finally he got the key into the keyhole. They heard the soft clang as the key on the other side fell to the floor. Praying silently to himself, Richard turned the key in the lock.
Chapter Five
Paul didn't hear Tim and Richard burst into the bathroom. He was curled into a tight ball in the corner. He never even reacted when Tim carefully picked him up and carried him back into the dressing room.
He remained locked in whatever nightmare he was experiencing, every muscle tense, his breathing rapid and shallow, face deathly white.
Richard went to find the theatre manager to see if he could get a doctor.
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Tim sat, cradling Paul tenderly against his chest, gently stroking his hair. He was sick with worry. What if he'd somehow caused this?
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Paul struggled to break free of the memories that bombarded his senses, but he couldn't. They would have to run their course, through to the horrific conclusion.
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Richard came hurrying back into the dressing room, closely followed by the theatre manager, and a doctor who had been dragged from the audience of the show that was about to follow the Allstars'.
"Has he taken any drugs tonight?" The doctor asked as he gently took Paul's pulse.
"No. He hasn't even had a drink." Richard shook his head.
The doctor looked sceptical but let it pass. "How long has he been like this?"
"About half an hour I guess." Tim told him. "He locked himself in the bathroom after our show we only just got to him."
"I see." The doctor spent the next few minutes examining Paul. Finally, he stood. "There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with him. If I had to guess, I'd say he's in some sort of fugue state some repressed memory has resurfaced, and he's unable to control his response to it."
"What sort of memory could do that?" Richard asked, surprised.
"A very bad one, I'd say, judging by his reaction." The doctor said quietly.
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Tim had been only half-listening to the doctor. He'd thought he'd sensed a change in Paul a minute lessening of the tension in his muscles.
"Doctor?" He said quietly, drawing everyone's attention back to Paul.
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Paul slowly came back to an awareness of his surroundings. A shudder passed through his body, and his eyes closed. He felt someone's arms around him, and relaxed into the warmth they offered. He was cold and exhausted, his face damp from tears he didn't even remember shedding.
"Paul?" Tim's voice was barely above a whisper.
Opening his eyes, he looked up into Tim's worried face. "Tired, Timmy. So tired." His voice was a sigh. He closed his eyes again and nestled further into Tim's arms.
Tim looked anxiously up at the doctor.
"He'll probably sleep for several hours now that's not an abnormal reaction." The doctor said quietly. "He really needs to seek help, though. The episodes could become more frequent unless he can work through whatever is troubling him." He wrote something on a piece of paper. "This is the name of a colleague who specialises in this sort of case. I strongly suggest that you make every effort to get him to go and see her."
"Thanks. We will." Richard took the slip of paper from him with a grateful smile. "Is there anything we can do for him in the meantime?"
"Just watch him. As I said, he'll sleep now these episodes usually leave the patient totally exhausted, often with little or no memory of what happened. All you can do is get him home to bed and keep an eye on him."
"We will. Thanks." Tim hadn't taken his eyes off Paul.
"And don't forget to encourage him to seek help or one time he may not snap out of it at all." The doctor said grimly.
Chapter Six
Paul hardly stirred as Tim carried him out to the taxi for the short ride back to the hotel. He opened his eyes and looked around vaguely as Tim carried him into his room, Richard following close behind.
"Need a hand getting changed, Paul?" Tim asked him gently.
"Mmm-hmm. Please." He nodded as Tim carefully set him on his feet.
Richard grabbed his pyjamas while Tim helped him out of his clothes. He barely had the energy to lift his arms to put them into the sleeves of the pyjama coat that Richard held for him. Tim and Richard handled him as they would a sleepy child. When he was in his pyjamas, Tim lifted him and placed him on the bed while Richard pulled the bedclothes up over his shoulders, barely resisting the urge to tuck him in.
"Thanks." Paul smiled exhaustedly up at them before his eyes closed and sleep overtook him once again.
"D'you want the first watch?" Tim asked Richard quietly as they moved away from the bed.
"Sure. I'll just go get my pyjamas and a book." Richard nodded.
"I'll wait with him until you get back you may as well have a shower, too, since we never had a chance after the show."
"Thanks. That'd be great. I won't be long." Richard headed for the door.
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Tim sat on the spare bed and studied Paul as he slept. He was still pale, although a little colour had returned to his cheeks. Sleep removed years from Paul's face he could easily have been in his late teens instead of his mid-twenties.
Once again Tim found himself shaken by the depth of his feelings for his friend. More than anything, he wanted to hold him in his arms and protect him from whatever was hurting him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow responsible for what was happening. Paul had been fine before he'd kissed him.
He buried his face in his hands, unable to hold back the tears any longer.
"Timmy?" Paul was staring at him sleepily. "What's wrong?"
Tim raised his head, startled. "Nothing, mate. Go back to sleep, okay?" Fuck! He hadn't meant to disturb Paul.
"Tell me? Please?" Paul asked pleadingly, a worried frown on his face. He started to sit up, but Tim moved over to sit on the side of his bed, a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him where he was.
Tim sighed. "I just feel responsible, I guess." He stroked the hair back from Paul's face.
Paul smiled, a sad, sweet, smile. "Not your fault, Timmy. I mean it, okay?"
"If you're sure ."
"I am." Paul reached up to pat Tim's hand. "Why don't you go and get some sleep?"
"I will as soon as Richard gets back." Tim assured him.
Paul looked a little puzzled at that, but he was far too tired to think about what it meant. "'Kay." His eyes closed once again and he drifted off to sleep once more.
Chapter Seven
Once Richard had returned to Paul's room, Tim headed off to his own room to shower and get some sleep. He checked his watch as he emerged from the bathroom. Hmmm. It was only mid-afternoon back home. He headed for the 'phone.
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Tim relieved Richard at 4am.
"How's he been?" He asked softly as he carefully closed the door.
"Hasn't even moved. He must be really exhausted." Richard whispered.
"I called Sharon."
"And?"
"She thinks that it might have something to do with the year he spent overseas before he went to the School of Art. She knows something happened while he was away, but he's never told anyone about it not even her." Tim told him quietly.
"But he tells her everything." Richard was surprised.
Tim nodded. "I know. Everything except this, apparently. All she knows is that there was a period of about six weeks that no one heard from him while he was in Europe. He never explained why he hadn't been in touch, and he never told her what happened during that time, even when she asked him about it. He was different afterwards nothing she could put her finger on, but he wasn't the same. She even went so far as to read his journal without him knowing, but there was a six week gap in the entries."
"Shit." Paul constantly wrote in his journals. About day-to-day events, ideas for songs, small sketches that might later become larger paintings or drawings, everything. For him not to write about something anything for six weeks ..
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As soon as Paul began to stir, Tim was awake. Paul stretched and yawned, opening his eyes to find Tim in the spare bed, studying him intently.
"Um .hi ." He clearly had no idea what Tim was doing there. He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest and staring at Tim.
Tim smiled. "'Morning. How are you feeling?"
"Tired, but okay." Paul shrugged. "Did we go drinking last night?" He suddenly realised that he had no idea how he'd gotten home. The last thing he remembered was coming off stage and heading for the dressing room.
"No. You uh well, you weren't feeling very well, so we came back to the hotel."" Tim wasn't quite sure how to tell Paul about what had happened.
There was a light knock on the door and Richard popped his head inside. "Oh, good. You're awake." He came inside, closing the door behind him. "How are you this morning, Paul?"
"Okay, I guess." Paul was obviously confused.
Tim and Richard exchanged a concerned look.
"How much do you remember about last night, Paul?" Richard asked carefully.
"After the show, not a whole lot." Paul frowned. "I remember fucking up in the show though." He dropped his gaze, embarrassed.
Richard laughed. "It wasn't that bad, mate. The audience wouldn't have even noticed."
"You sure?" Paul asked, worried.
"Positive." Tim grinned. The show was the least of their problems and the audience hadn't seemed to notice anything unusual.
Paul looked less than completely convinced, but relaxed slightly. "So, what happened after the show?" He asked, curious.
Chapter Eight
Richard glanced over at Tim, who shrugged helplessly. This was unknown territory for both of them.
"Well," Richard spoke when it became obvious that Tim had no idea what to say, "when Tim and I got back to the dressing room, you'd locked yourself in the bathroom."
"I what?" Paul was shocked.
"It's true." Tim nodded nervously. "We had to use the dressing room key to get the door open."
Paul stared at them both. He had no memory of doing that.
"When we got the door open, we found you sort of, um, huddled in a corner, really out of it." Tim continued before looking to Richard for help.
"I went and got a doctor while Tim carried you back out to the dressing room." Richard said quietly.
"What the fuck's wrong with me? Why can't I remember what happened?" Paul looked scared. As he stared from Richard to Tim, another face rose up in his memory. A face he hadn't seen for nearly six years.
Richard swallowed nervously. Should he say more or not? He had to say something - Paul was desperate to know what had happened. "Um, the doctor thinks that it might be some sort of repressed memory. Something bad that happened maybe when you were in Europe " He broke off when he saw the colour drain from Paul's face.
"Paul?" Tim quickly crossed to Paul's bed. "Paul! Say something!"
Paul's eyes had lost focus. He stared off into space, hugging his knees more tightly to his chest.
"Shit! It's happening again!" Tim exclaimed, really frightened now.
Richard pulled the piece of paper the doctor had given them from his pocket, suddenly thankful that he'd looked up the 'phone number and written it down before heading for Paul's room. Grabbing up the 'phone, he quickly dialled the number.
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Paul once again found himself struggling to break free of the memory of what had happened. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape it. Knowing what was going to happen only made it worse, not better. He felt as though he was reliving the whole thing, just as helpless now as he had been then. Part of him acknowledged that what he was experiencing was only memory, but a stronger part insisted that it was happening now.
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Once again it was Tim who noticed the slight change.
"Paul?" He rested a hand lightly on Paul's arm.
Paul flinched away from his touch, his eyes belatedly focussing on Tim's face. He relaxed slightly. "Tim?" He looked over to where Richard stood with a woman he'd never seen before. She looked to be middle-aged, with kind brown eyes, and pale, clear skin. "What happened?"
"I think it would be best if Doctor MacDonald explained it." Tim told him gently.
"Doctor? Am I sick?"
"Doctor MacDonald will explain it, mate." Richard smiled encouragingly at him. "We'll wait outside."
"No!" Paul was suddenly afraid of what the doctor might tell him. "Stay. Please?"
They looked at MacDonald, who smiled and nodded. She replaced Tim in the chair that he'd dragged to the side of the bed while they'd waited for her arrival. She didn't normally make housecalls, but this had sounded like an emergency. Having seen Paul's condition for herself, she was glad she'd decided to come. He definitely needed her help.
"So, Paul may I call you Paul?" At his nod, she continued. "So, Paul, can you remember anything about the last half-hour or so?"
Paul frowned, trying to concentrate. He was so tired. "Um, I guess not. Everything's a bit, well, blank from the end of the show last night until now."
"I see. Well, it appears that some incident from your past is coming back to haunt you." She kept her tone deliberately light. "We won't try and explore what that might be right now, but we will need to get to the bottom of things in order to help you to put whatever it is behind you. Does that sound reasonable?"
"Uh, yes, it does." Paul nodded. He found himself trusting her, even though he'd only just met her. There was a calmness about her that was very reassuring.
"Fine." She smiled and patted his hand. "Why don't you come by my office later today. I'll tell my secretary to fit you in."
"Okay. We've got a show this evening, so " Paul began.
"We can always cancel, mate." Richard put in quickly.
"No." Paul shook his head. "You know how I feel about cancelling."
"This afternoon's session will only be a preliminary." MacDonald said. "It shouldn't go for longer than half an hour."
"Thanks." Paul smiled. "Um, about three, then?"
"Fine." She stood. "I'll see you at three, then."
Chapter Nine
Tim and Richard followed Doctor MacDonald from the room, closing the door softly behind them. Paul had already fallen asleep again.
"So, can you help him , Doctor?" Tim asked as soon as they were outside.
"I think so, yes." MacDonald nodded.
"What exactly is wrong with him, anyway?" Richard asked, concerned. "The doctor last night mentioned something about a 'fugue state', but I didn't understand."
"Well, it's a little early to say, of course, but my first guess is that he's been suppressing some memory that's so horrific to him that he can't bring himself to acknowledge it. Usually something happens to trigger this sort of reaction. The term 'fugue' if often used interchangeably with 'catalepsy'. Voluntary muscle control is lost, and the person is literally 'elsewhere' for the duration of the episode. In Paul's case, he seems to be trapped inside whatever he's remembering." MacDonald looked more closely at Tim. "Has anything unusual happened in the last day or so that might have triggered his memory?" She asked gently.
"Um, I - well, I kissed him." Tim looked miserable.
She smiled and patted his arm reassuringly. "It may have triggered the association, Tim, but I doubt very much whether he found the actual kiss a horrible experience." She chuckled - she hadn't missed the expression in Paul's eyes when he'd looked at Tim. "I take it that the kiss marked a change in the nature of your relationship?" She asked, more seriously.
"I hope so." Tim blushed.
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Tim and Richard waited anxiously outside Doctor MacDonald's office. Paul had been in there for nearly an hour - and they were sure that she'd said it would only be a short session. He finally emerged, looking tired and pale, after an hour and a half.
"Paul? Did it - ?" Tim asked hesitantly.
He nodded, depressed. "Yeah. Apparently it happened again. Can we go back to the hotel, please?"
"Sure." Tim placed an arm around his waist and gently steered him out of the office. Paul leaned against him as they walked.
"I'll catch up to you." Richard had seen Doctor MacDonald beckoning to him.
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"I've cleared my schedule for tomorrow morning." MacDonald wasted no time in getting to the point. "The episodes are too frequent to let it go any longer. Can you have him here by 9am?"
"Absolutely." Richard nodded.
"I think it would be a good idea if the two of you were also with him - and so does Paul. I have to warn you, though, I doubt if it will be pleasant."
"We'll be with him." Richard said firmly.
Chapter Ten
Paul threw himself into the performance that night, trying to take his mind off what would happen the next day. Tim and Richard hovered around him anxiously when they weren't on stage, although they tried - unsuccessfully - not to make it too obvious.
After the show they stopped in at a pub on their way back to the hotel, but their hearts weren't in it. They left after a couple of drinks. Paul was exhausted by the time they got back to their rooms, just about out on his feet.
Richard and Tim once again had to help him get ready for bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"D'you want the first watch?" Richard turned to Tim, who sat staring at Paul, tears in his eyes. "Tim? What's wrong?"
"It's my fault. He wouldn't be going through this if not for me." Tim said miserably.
Richard put his arm around Tim's shoulders. "I think it would have caught up with him eventually, mate. It's not your fault."
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They arrived at Doctor MacDonald's offices ten minutes early the next morning a first for Paul.
She met them with a smile and led them into the room she'd prepared. The first half hour or so she spent putting Paul at ease, gradually leading up to the real beginning of the session.
"Okay, Paul, let's make a start, shall we?" She leaned back in her chair. "Just focus on the drawing on the wall, and the sound of my voice."
Paul tried to relax, and follow her instructions. He stared at the drawing it was a simple geometric design and concentrated on her voice. She had a lovely, soothing voice, he decided, feeling himself relaxing even more.
"If at any time you feel distressed or uncomfortable, you can come back to the present. Okay?" MacDonald studied Paul's face as she spoke.
"Okay."
"Good. Now let your body relax, drifting peacefully. Around you is only calm and peace."
Paul allowed himself to drift along, narrowing his concentration to only the doctor's voice. His eyes closed and he sighed.
Paul arrived in Italy after about two months in the UK and France. He'd been looking forward to it, but with typical perverseness had decided to make himself wait. He spent his first day at the Vatican, wandering dreamily through the various buildings, seeing first-hand the artwork that he'd previously only seen in pictures.
The first day had only whet his appetite for more, and he'd gone back the next day to do it all again. He'd bought a roll, some cheese, and a bottle of water, and settled down contentedly for lunch in one of the small gardens accessible to the public. He'd forgotten to eat the day before not unusual for him when he was distracted, but the headache he'd ended up with had hindered his ability to enjoy the artwork. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again.
He was about halfway through the roll, studying the information guide he'd bought the day before and planning his post-lunch exploration, when a shadow fell over him.
"May I sit here?" The speaker was about his age, with dark, flashing eyes, dark brown, almost black hair, olive skin, and a stunning smile. His English was slightly accented.
"Be my guest." Paul shrugged and smiled.
"Thank you." He settled gracefully onto the grass next to Paul. "You have chosen the most perfect spot for lunch." The stranger grinned, extracting his own lunch from his bag.
"I know." Paul's grin was smug. "I only just beat those Pommies to it." He nodded towards a group of people picnicking about ten metres away.
"Pommies?"
Paul laughed. "Just a nickname Australians use for English people."
"Aah. I see. So you are Australian. I wondered at the accent." The stranger smiled.
"That's right. From Canberra. And you?" Paul leant back against a tree, studying him.
"I am from Firenze ah Florence. I often come here to wander and lose myself in the art."
"Lucky you. I've only got a few more days here before I head off again." Paul sighed. "Oh, my name's Paul, by the way." He extended his hand.
"And I am Marco." Marco smiled. His handshake was firm and warm. They both maintained the contact for a little longer than was absolutely necessary, before grinning self-consciously and letting go simultaneously.
They passed the rest of the afternoon together, wandering through the corridors and buildings. Marco managed to get them into a few places not generally available to the public, but Paul had no idea how he'd managed it not at the time, anyway.
Chapter Eleven
Doctor MacDonald continued to lead Paul through his past.
During the course of the afternoon, Paul learnt more about Marco. He was twenty eighteen months older than Paul with three older sisters, and studying architecture so that he could join the family business.
By the time they were herded out of the Vatican with the rest of the visitors they were both starving. Marco led the way to a small cafι away from the usual tourist areas. They'd sat and talked for hours before eventually going their separate ways but not before they'd arranged to meet again the next morning so that Marco could show him Rome.
The next few days had passed all too quickly. They'd wandered around Rome, exploring it thoroughly and enjoying each other's company immensely. Finally, though, it was time for Paul to move on. He was booked to fly to Florence the next afternoon, and he hadn't been able to change the booking.
"What's wrong, Paul?" Marco had noticed that he'd been unusually quiet during dinner.
"Just thinking about tomorrow." Paul sighed. "I'm going to miss you."
"But did I not tell you?" Marco asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I return to Firenze tomorrow, too."
Paul laughed. "Gee, must have slipped your mind." He poked his tongue out at him. "You know you didn't tell me, you bastard!"
Marco's eyes widened as he attempted an innocent expression. "But Paul, I assure you that my birth was completely legitimate!"
---------
They laughed and joked through the rest of their dinner, and had to be almost forcibly evicted when the restaurant closed in the early hours of the morning.
Marco slipped his arm around Paul's shoulders as they walked back towards Paul's hotel. Paul's arm was around Marco's waist. They were nearly there when Marco had suddenly stopped walking.
"Why don't you stay at my place tonight, Paul? We could go to the airport together in the afternoon. I did mention that I was on the same flight as you, did I not?" His eyes danced with laughter.
"Another small detail that seems to have slipped your mind." Paul sighed melodramatically. "Oh, well. They do say that the memory starts to fail as you get older."
They had to wake the night manager at the hotel so that Paul could check out. Packing wasn't a problem he only had his backpack and another bag where he kept his art supplies.
---------
Marco's family's apartment was in the most exclusive part of Rome. Paul looked uneasily around him when Marco led him inside. It was the penthouse apartment, and it was huge.
He'd gathered that Marco's family was well off, but the opulence was a little overwhelming. Marco smiled at the stunned expression on Paul's place as he took his hand and led him through the apartment to the guest bedroom.
"Here you are. I hope you will be comfortable here."
The room was at least twice as big as Paul's hotel room and that wasn't counting the huge ensuite. "It's beautiful." Paul was suddenly feeling very shy and out of place. "I might get lost in all this space, though." He laughed nervously.
"You could always call on me to help you find your way."
Something in Marco's voice made Paul turn to look at him.
Marco was studying him intently, his gaze roaming over Paul's body in a way that sent shivers up his spine.
"Oh." Was all Paul could manage as Marco closed the distance between them, his arms going around Paul's waist. He stared, mesmerised, into Marco's eyes as he brought his head down to kiss him. As their lips met, his eyes closed, his entire concentration focussed on the sensation of Marco's mouth on his own. By the time the kiss ended, they had somehow moved over to stand next to the bed, although Paul had no clear memory of how they'd gotten there. "Oh." He said again, a slight smile on his mouth as he looked up at Marco.
"May I stay? Please?" Marco whispered the words as he began to unbutton Paul's shirt.
"I've never ah well, you know
.." Paul told him quietly. He'd thought about what it would be like to be with another man, but so far all his sexual experiences had been with girls.
Marco's hands stopped moving. "We don't have to, Paul."
Paul nervously reached up to stroke the smooth creamy skin of Marco's neck. "Stay. Please." He barely breathed the words.
---------
Waking up the next morning in Marco's arms was wonderful. He studied his face as he slept, realising that he'd fallen for him, despite the short time they'd known each other.
"I love you, Marco." He whispered, leaning up to kiss him.
Marco's eyes opened as he sleepily returned the kiss. "And I love you, my little Paolo." He leaned over Paul, his hands languidly stroking him. "Let me show you again just how much."
---------
They'd nearly missed the plane, but Marco had made a quick phonecall just before they left for the airport, and the plane had been held for them.
Paul stared at Marco, shocked. "Just how important is your family?"
Marco grinned smugly at him. "Well, let us just say that there are few more wealthy families in Italy."
When he'd recovered his composure, Paul tickled Marco playfully. "You'll think I only love you for your money!"
Marco laughed. "No! You only love me for my beautiful body!" He tickled Paul in return.
"True!"
---------
Marco's family had welcomed Paul warmly. He settled in easily, and he and Marco went on long meandering walks through the city, exploring as much as they could. At night, they continued their private exploration of each other.
Paul was happier than he'd ever been in his life before.
"So, Paul. You and Marco were very much in love. That must have been wonderful for you." MacDonald knew that they were approaching the cause of Paul's problems and chose her words carefully.
"Yes." Paul sighed, smiling.
Tim and Richard exchanged a look. They had no idea why this would be so upsetting for Paul. They were about to find out.
Chapter Twelve
"You'd spent the week with Marco and his family." MacDonald prompted Paul gently. "And then?"
Paul frowned. "I he
."
"Take your time." MacDonald said soothingly. "Remember, Paul, you can always come back to the present if you feel threatened."
He sighed. "Yes."
Towards the end of the week, Marco's father had asked him to visit one of the company's offices in Naples. There was a problem with a major contract that could only be handled by one of the family, and his father was tied up with another negotiation.
Marco had asked Paul to go with him luring him with the promise of a visit to Pompeii. They flew to Naples in the company jet.
While Marco had been in the meeting, Paul had explored the city on his own. It wasn't as much fun without Marco, and he'd soon returned to the cafι where they'd agreed to meet. He passed the time drinking coffee and idly sketching the other patrons of the cafι.
He jumped when someone came up behind him and covered his eyes. "Guess who?"
"Um
let's see
..are you tall and gorgeous?" Paul grinned.
"Yes!"
"Hmmm...well
.I don't know who you are, but you're quite welcome to join me
just don't let Marco see you, okay?" He laughed as Marco hit him lightly on the shoulder.
"Have you been having fun?" Marco asked as he moved around to sit at the table.
"Not really, without you."
"Well, that is about to change. The business part of the trip is now over, and we can have some fun. But first, I need to change out of this suit."
"Can I help?" Paul asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively as he paid the bill and they stood.
"What a wonderful idea." Marco grinned.
The family also had an apartment in Naples. It was only a short walk from the cafι, but they never made it that far.
As they walked along, arm in arm, laughing and teasing each other, neither of them noticed the car that kept pace with them. They were about to cross the road when the car suddenly pulled in beside them. Before they could react, they were roughly dragged into the car. Hoods were shoved over their heads and their wrists and ankles were bound tightly.
A flurry of Italian followed as Marco demanded to know what was happening.
"Marco?" Paul said softly. "What's happening?"
"I'm so sorry, Paul. You would have been safe if you were not with me."
"But I don't understand " Paul began. His words were cut off abruptly when he received a heavy blow to his head. He vaguely heard Marco calling his name as he lost consciousness.
---------
When he regained consciousness, the hood was gone, but he was still tied up. Raising his head groggily, he saw Marco lying on the floor a few metres away. He seemed to be unconscious. Looking around, he saw that they were in a small, filthy room. An open door revealed an equally filthy bathroom. The room was devoid of furniture, and the only window was covered with what looked like a tattered sheet.
Marco's eyes slowly opened and he looked at Paul. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
Paul managed to drag himself over until they were only a foot or so apart. "It's not your fault." He moved even closer and kissed his lips lightly. "Who are these people, anyway? What the hell do they want?"
"They call themselves terrorists, but they're nothing more than kidnappers. They kidnap members of wealthy families and extort money from the families to finance their other activities." Marco sighed. "I'm sorry I asked you to come with me to Naples. You'd be safe now if I hadn't."
"Don't say that. I love you. I want to be with you wherever you are." Paul smiled wryly. "Even here."
Marco couldn't help but smile back, but his eyes showed clearly how worried he was. "I love you, Paolo. No matter what happens, remember that."
"Nothing's going to happen." Paul said stubbornly. "And I love you, too."
The door to the room suddenly opened and two men wearing balaclavas and brandishing automatic weapons entered the room. Paul and Marco watched them warily. A third man, also wearing a balaclava, but carrying a video camera on a tripod, came into the room. There was silence as he set the camera up.
Marco's ankles were untied and he was dragged roughly over to stand in front of the camera. Once again, the ensuing talk was all in Italian, but Paul had little difficulty in figuring out what was going on. The light on the camera came on and Marco hesitated. One of the gunmen pointed his gun at Paul and Marco began to speak, reading from a piece of paper held out of view of the camera by the other gunman. As he spoke, the camera swung over to point at Paul and the man who held the gun on him, then back to Marco.
The whole thing took perhaps ten minutes certainly not longer. Before they were left alone again, their hands were freed, and Paul's ankles were untied. A plastic water bottle was placed on the floor just inside the door.
"So, it is a ransom demand?" Paul asked quietly as he rubbed his wrists to restore the circulation. They sat side by side, leaning against the wall opposite the door.
"Yes."
"It'll be okay, though, right?" Paul asked, moving closer to Marco and resting his head against his shoulder. "Your family will pay the ransom and we'll be released."
"If only it were that simple." Marco put his arm around Paul's shoulders, hugging him to his chest. "The Italian police will probably freeze my family's assets. That's their usual policy in these cases."
Paul looked up at him, eyes clouded with concern. "But why would they do that?"
"To stop the terrorists from getting any money." Marco said softly.
"But that would mean " Paul broke off, horrified.
"Exactly. But don't think about that." Marco kissed him gently. "My father is resourceful, and he has many friends who would lend him the money." He tried to sound sure of that.
Chapter Thirteen
They were left alone for another day. The next time the door opened, two gunmen again preceded the man with the camera into the room. Whether they were the same three men was impossible to tell, but they looked to be the same.
Paul could only look on as Marco spoke to the men. He was startled when Marco moved protectively in front of him.
"What - ?" Was all he had time to say as Marco was pulled away from him and thrown roughly to the floor.
"Oh, God, Paul, I'm sorry." Marco gasped, tears in his eyes as Paul was dragged over to where the camera had been set up. "I'm so sorry."
As the tape started to roll, two more men entered the room. They towered over Paul menacingly. "Marco?" Paul looked over to where Marco was lying, one of the gunmen standing over him.
"I love you, Paul." Marco whispered as Paul was grabbed by one of the newcomers.
Paul struggled, but the man was incredibly strong. He looked over at the fifth man just as he smashed his fist into his stomach.
The camera recorded the entire beating, occasionally moving to point at Marco, but mainly focussing on Paul.
"Fuck!" Tim was on his feet and heading towards Paul before he could stop himself.
MacDonald gestured urgently with her hand to stop him even as Richard grabbed his arm.
Paul had curled into a small ball on the couch, tears running down his face.
"You can stop anytime you need to, Paul."
"I know." Paul sighed.
Paul's return to consciousness was gradual and painful. He opened his eyes well, eye, since one was swollen so badly that he couldn't see out of it and looked up into Marco's beautiful brown eyes.
He was lying on the floor, his head resting on Marco's thigh. Whenever he moved, fresh pain would shoot through his body.
"Lie still, Paolo." Marco gently stroked his forehead. "Would you like some water?"
"Please." Paul's mouth was bruised and bloody, and he was incredibly thirsty. He sipped as slowly as he could when Marco held the water bottle to his lips. "Are you okay?" He asked, looking up at him. He'd worried that when they'd finished with him they'd start on Marco.
"I am unhurt." Marco said, his tone bitter. "I will not be touched too valuable - unless the ransom is not paid. What was done to you was meant as a warning to my family."
"It's not your fault." Paul struggled to sit up, gasping as he rediscovered how painful movement was.
"I love you so much, Paul."
"And I love you. I just want to be with you forever." Paul sighed and leaned against Marco's chest.
Marco carefully held him close, mindful of hurting him. "I don't think we're going to have forever, Paolo."
Paul suddenly sat bolt upright on the couch, staring around, disoriented.
"It's okay, Paul." MacDonald said soothingly. "We can stop now if you need to."
He looked at her as if he'd never seen her before in his life. Gradually, he relaxed as he recognised his surroundings. "I " He began, then was on his feet, running for the bathroom. He made it, but only just.
Tim and Richard would have followed, but MacDonald waved them away and headed for the bathroom herself.
"I think we'd better stop for today, Paul." She said softly, concerned. She had a fair idea of where the memories were heading.
"No." Paul leant wearily against the sink, rinsing his mouth out. "Please, I have to finish it while I still can." He looked up at her, the pain in his eyes tearing at her heart. "Please?"
"Okay." She nodded reluctantly.
Chapter Fourteen
They both looked up as the door opened yet again. It had been well over two days since the beating, and they hadn't seen anyone in all that time. Water had been shoved inside the door, but they never saw who put it there.
Five men entered the room. Two carried automatic weapons, one the camera, while the other two didn't seem to be carrying anything.
Marco helped Paul to his feet. They stood nervously facing the five men. One of the men said something to Marco. He replied softly, a question. The man answered and Marco stiffened, a tremour running through his body. Turning to Paul, he pulled him close, holding his face tenderly in his hands.
"I love you so much, Paul. Always remember that." He tried to convey all the love he felt for him in that final kiss. Paul held him tight and returned the kiss. Tears were streaming down both their faces when the two unarmed men pulled Paul away from Marco.
The camera turned towards Marco. He stood against the wall, his gaze fixed on Paul, who was being held off to one side by both men. "No, please! Not him!" Paul was sobbing, struggling to break free. "Kill me instead. Please!"
The camera was turned on. Marco flinched as the harsh light hurt his eyes. He looked into the camera and spoke softly, saying goodbye to his family. He turned once again to look at Paul. "I love you."
"No! God! Stop! No!" Paul's scream was drowned out by the roar of the automatic weapons. Marco's body jerked with the impact of each bullet as he fell.
MacDonald finally allowed Tim and Richard to go to Paul. He was sobbing, once again curled into a tight ball on the couch. "It should have been me." He repeated over and over again. When Tim sat next to him and put his arm around him, he buried his face in Tim's chest and sobbed broken-heartedly. Richard gently massaged his shoulders and back.
When the sobs had subsided, Paul still clung to Tim, needing his warmth, the protection of his strong arms. Richard's hand rested lightly on the back of his neck and he took comfort from that, too.
"What happened next, Paul?" MacDonald asked softly.
Paul took a deep, shuddering breath. "They must have knocked me out again. When I came to, I was in hospital. They'd dumped us outside the office in Naples. The police had frozen not only Marco's family's assets, but also all of their friends. There was just no way that they could get the money together." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "The funeral was very private, only Marco's family and me." A single tear ran down his cheek. "They were wonderful to me, but I could tell that it was too painful for them to have me there I was alive while Marco was dead, and every time they looked at me, they realised again what they'd lost." He shrugged. "There were large chunks of what happened that I just couldn't remember
..until now." He said quietly. "I went to Spain and pretty much drank my way around there for about two weeks, then I just went on travelling. I'd been meant to come home after four months, but I stayed away for twelve all up."
"And do you know why the change in your relationship with Tim brought the memories back?" MacDonald asked, studying his face.
Paul nodded, dropping his eyes to his hands. "I haven't
.well
I haven't been with a man since Marco." He whispered. "Only women. Something just wouldn't let me
get close to another man." Tears filled his eyes again. Tim's arms tightened around him protectively. "And then, when I realised Tim was serious
.and physically he's similar to Marco
." Fresh tears ran from his eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Richard had wanted to cancel that evening's performance, but Paul had insisted that they go on with it. Afterwards, he'd returned alone to his room while they went out drinking with friends. He needed time to himself.
After a long, cleansing shower, he dragged on his pyjamas and crawled into bed. It took him a long time to get to sleep. And when he dreamt, he dreamt of Marco.
---------
Tim and Richard had staggered back to the hotel in the early hours of the morning, drunk as skunks. They'd needed the release after the heavy emotional stress of the day.
---------
Tim couldn't resist the urge to check on Paul. He cared so much about him that it had nearly torn him apart to see him so distressed earlier.
He quietly opened the door to Paul's room and peeked inside. Paul was lying in bed, in the darkened room, his shoulders shaking as he silently cried. Suddenly feeling very sober, Tim went and sat on the side of the bed.
"Hey, Paul. How're you doing, mate?" He lightly stroked his arm.
"Not very well." Paul said miserably. "I was never able to really cry for him before and now I can't seem to stop."
"Well, Richard and I are here for you you know that, don't you?" Tim patted his shoulder.
"Yeah. I don't know how I would have gotten through today without you." Paul nodded. "Tim?" He asked in a small, shaky voice.
"Yeah, mate?"
"Could you just hold me for a while? Please? I know it's a lot to ask, after everything that happened today "
Tim smiled fondly down at him. "Of course I'll hold you, Paul." I love you, he added silently. He swung his legs up onto the bed, and leant back against the wall as Paul snuggled into his chest. He could feel the dampness of Paul's tears as they soaked into his shirt and hugged him more closely to him. He kept murmuring soothingly to him as he wept, gently stroking his hair. Finally, he stopped shaking. When Tim looked down at him, he saw that he'd fallen asleep. Good. He needed to rest.
---------
Paul woke the next morning still warm and safe in the protective circle of Tim's arms. He looked up at Tim to find him studying him, his expression gentle.
"Morning" He smiled down at him.
"Morning." Without thinking, Paul reached up and kissed Tim lightly on the lips. He drew back quickly, a panicky expression on his face. "Um
I'm sorry
I shouldn't have
"
Tim gave him a quick hug. He knew Paul wasn't ready for anything more yet, but the kiss had given him hope. "That's okay, Paul. I enjoyed it, anyway." He grinned down at him before easing himself out from under Paul and standing, stretching to ease the kinks in his back and neck.
Paul lay watching him, his expression unreadable.
"I'd better go and get changed." Tim laughed, looking down at the clothes he still wore from the night before. "Just get up whenever you feel like it we'll probably be downstairs in the lounge."
"Okay." Paul nodded. "Thanks for last night, Tim."
Tim smiled. "Any time, Paul." With that he was gone.
Paul rolled over onto his back and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. He still felt utterly exhausted, but he was more at peace than he'd been for a long time. He'd never really done his grieving for Marco, and the tears he'd shed all over Tim last night had been long overdue. He'd never forget his first real love even blocking the memories had only worked for so long, he thought with a sad smile but it was time he allowed himself to move on. Which brought his thoughts to Tim.
His grief was still too fresh for him to know how he really felt about Tim. He knew that he loved him as a friend, and that he found him physically attractive, but was there more? Did he could he love him?
Perhaps it was only a matter of time he needed to give himself time to work out how he felt
He'd cried for his lost love, and the tears had been cathartic. But where did he go from here? Above all, he didn't want to hurt Tim, or mislead him if there was no real depth to his feelings for him. Marco would never forgive him if he did that.
Chapter Sixteen
Paul finally emerged from his room an hour or so later and went in search of Tim and Richard. He felt washed out, and was only thankful that they didn't have a show that night.
He found them sitting in the loungeroom, drinking coffee and reading a couple of the local papers. They always liked to include a bit of local content in their shows, and the papers were usually a good source of information.
Richard looked up and spotted him. He smiled and beckoned the waiter over. Paul heard him ordering a pot of tea and grinned.
"Thanks, mate." He said as he took a seat next to Tim on the lounge. "And thanks for yesterday, too both of you."
"I'm just glad you seem to be feeling better." Richard smiled fondly at him.
"It meant a lot having you both there with me." Paul said quietly, looking from one to the other.
"Hey, what are friends for?" Tim gave him a quick hug.
The waiter arrived with Paul's tea, and fresh coffee for Richard and Tim. The three sat, reading the papers, in companionable silence.
--------
Paul finished his second cup of tea and put the paper he's been reading aside. "I'm going for a walk. Catch you guys here later?"
"Sure." Richard nodded.
"Mind if I tag along?" Tim asked softly.
Unaccountably, Paul blushed. "Um, no. That'd be great." He smiled nervously.
---------
They meandered around the city for a while before ending up in a park which had a good view of Edinburgh Castle.
Sitting on the grass, Paul sketched for a while. Tim lay on the grass beside him, hands under his head, watching the clouds scoot by overhead, and stealing occasional glances at Paul.
Paul looked so sweet when he was concentrating on his art, Tim thought idly, rolling onto his side so he could study him more closely.
Glancing up, Paul's gaze met Tim's. He smiled shyly then returned to his drawing.
"What are you drawing?" Tim asked, leaning over so that he could see the page Paul was working on.
"Um
.just
well
" With a sigh, Paul handed him his sketch pad.
Tim was a little surprised. Paul was usually less forthcoming with his artwork. He looked at the drawing and drew in a sharp breath. There was no doubt in his mind who Paul had drawn.
"He was beautiful." Tim said quietly, handing the book back with a sad smile.
"Yeah." Paul kept his head down, but Tim caught the gleam of tears in his eyes.
"It's okay to grieve, Paul." Tim sat up and put his arm around Paul's shoulder. "It's right to grieve for him."
"I just feel like I've I don't know, like I've betrayed him blocking the memory away like that. I really loved him, Tim, but I tried to forget he even existed." Paul covered his face with his hands and leant against Tim, who wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer.
"It wasn't him you didn't want to remember, Paul." Tim told him, tears in his own eyes. "It was what those bastards did to him." He sighed. "C'mon let's go back to the hotel."
---------
Tim took Paul back to his room. As they passed the lounge, he exchanged a look with Richard, who smiled sadly back at him.
When they reached Paul's room, Tim led him inside and sat him on the bed. "Can I get you a cup of tea, Paul?"
"Uh, yeah, thanks. That'd be nice." Paul nodded, his smile a little watery.
While he waited for the kettle to boil, Tim went and sat next to Paul, his arm almost automatically going around his shoulders. Paul leaned into him, his arms going around Tim's waist. "Thanks, Timmy."
"Oh, Paul, I hate seeing you unhappy. I wish there was something I could do to help you." Tim sighed, stroking his hair comfortingly.
"You already have helped me just by being here." Paul said, and Tim could tell that he was crying again.
He hugged him closer, rocking gently back and forth as though he was soothing a small child. Gradually, he became aware that Paul had stopped crying. He looked down just as Paul looked up at him. He could feel the warmth of Paul's breath against his neck.
Before he could stop and think, he leaned down, kissing Paul ever so gently. He pulled away quickly. "I'm sorry." He felt like he was taking advantage of Paul when he was vulnerable.
Paul smiled sweetly up at him. "I'm not." He reached up to wrap his arms around Tim's neck, drawing him down for another kiss.
Chapter Seventeen
Oh, God! Tim had dreamt of this moment for so long. But the timing just wasn't right. He allowed himself to savour the feeling of Paul's lips against his for just a moment longer, then gently pulled back.
"Did I do something wrong?" Paul asked, a worried look in his eyes.
Tim stroked his face lightly with his fingertips. "No, Paul. You didn't do anything wrong. I just don't want to take advantage of you when you're like this." And he didn't want to be used as a substitute for Marco, either, but he didn't say that out loud.
Paul looked at him in silence for a moment. "I do know the difference between you and Marco, Tim." He said quietly before standing and walking into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Tim sat there for a moment, going over what had happened. He was interrupted by the whistling of the kettle as it boiled. Shaking himself, he stood and switched off the kettle then made Paul's tea.
He'd done the right thing backing off, he knew it. So why did he feel like he'd just made a big mistake?
---------
Paul splashed cold water over his face and neck and stood staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Did he know the difference between Tim and Marco? He'd thought he did, but now he wasn't so sure. Who had he been kissing? He couldn't honestly say, he was so confused at the moment. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Tim. He still didn't really know how he felt about Tim, but if he lost his friendship, he didn't know what he'd do.
With a sigh he reached for the towel and dried himself off. He really should talk to Tim, to try and explain, if he could explain.
When he went back into the bedroom, Tim was gone.
---------
Tim lay back on his bed, head resting on his arm. He had no idea what he should do about Paul. He only hoped Paul had really understood why he'd backed off. He wasn't sure he understood it himself, except that when
if
..he and Paul got together, he wanted it to be for the right reasons.
There was a light knock on his door. "Who is it?"
The door opened and Paul stepped hesitantly into the room. "Can we talk? Please?"
---------
Tim sat up, leaning back against the wall. "Sure."
Paul closed the door and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "I have something I need to say
but I'm not sure if I'm going to say it right, so just hear me out, please?" He turned to look at Tim, his eyes pleading for understanding.
"Okay." Tim nodded, his eyes never leaving Paul's face, dreading what he might say.
"When I kissed you, and you pulled away, it hurt, but you did the right thing." Paul told him softly. "I'm so confused right now that I couldn't honestly say that it was you I was kissing or or Marco." He reached out and laid his hand on Tim's leg. "I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing right now and I don't want to hurt you while I'm trying to figure out what's happening to me." There was no mistaking the pain in Tim's eyes. "I'm sorry." Paul whispered and stood, turning away.
Tim reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. "I'll still be here when you've figured it all out Paul even if all you want is friendship."
He dropped his hand as Paul turned back to face him. "I don't deserve you, Timmy." He said very softly before he turned and walked from the room.
"Yes, you do." Tim whispered to the closed door. "You deserve to be happy and I can make you happy."
Chapter Eighteen
Paul kept pretty much to himself over the next week or so. Tim and Richard still managed to keep an eye on him most of the time, but gave him as much space as he needed.
A lot of the time he spent either drawing or writing. His drawings, at least at first, were all of Marco. He could picture his face as clearly as if he had only last seen him yesterday, instead of years ago. The way he'd cocked his head when he smiled or laughed, the puzzled frown when he hadn't understood a colloquialism, the way he opened his eyes wide when he was trying to look innocent. A thousand images came back to him, each one bringing with it pain - but also helping him to remember the love that they'd found together.
As the days passed, he found himself thinking more and more of Tim. His mannerisms, the way he smiled. Pictures of Tim began to appear in his sketchbook with increasing frequency.
He'd had several more sessions with Doctor MacDonald. It was she who had suggested that he fill in the missing time in his journal - the six weeks that had so puzzled Sharon. Hesitant at first, he'd gone along with the idea. Writing everything down released a fresh flood of memories. It was painful, but it was also necessary - he'd bottled up his feelings for far too long. Finally he was able to express them freely - the way his love for Marco had taken him by surprise, how quickly and how deeply they had fallen for each other. His fear during the time they'd been held prisoner, the way his thoughts had just seemed to stop when Marco had been murdered. How he'd wanted to die, too, and how close he'd come to fulfilling that wish several times during the weeks immediately after he'd left Italy.
When he slept, he often dreamt of Marco, but the dreams were mostly of the happiness they'd shared, the things they'd done together. Once or twice, he had nightmares about the kidnapping, but he was finally starting to be able to deal with them, although they still left him shaking and in tears, and sharpened his sense of loss.
---------
On the work front, the festival was going brilliantly for the group, and they were playing to packed houses every show.
Now that Paul was coping better, Tim and Richard were able to relax and concentrate on their own performances instead of trying to cover for him. They were having the time of their lives, pulling out all the stops in their performances and partying nearly every night. Paul went to a few parties, but he usually left early - he didn't feel ready to get back into the swing of things completely yet.
---------
Paul's feelings towards Tim were still unclear. He found himself thinking of him all the time, and when he wasn't with him, he missed him more than he would have imagined. But was he only looking for a substitute for Marco? He didn't think so, but he was afraid. Afraid of loving someone that much again. Afraid of rejection. Afraid that if he did love Tim that something terrible would happen to him, and he'd lose him, too. Afraid that he would do something stupid to ruin everything. His fears weren't necessarily rational, he knew, but they were very real.
Maybe if they could just spend some time together, somewhere where they could both relax........
---------
By the time the Festival was over, all three of them were in desperate need of a break after several intensive weeks of performing. Richard was heading to England to visit relatives, while Paul was going to Mykonos, to lie on the beach, and relax.
Tim hadn't quite decided where he was going. Normally, after the Festival, they all headed off in different directions for a couple of weeks to recharge their batteries and have some time apart from each other. This time, though, Tim really wanted to spend some time with Paul away from work. He was still getting mixed signals from Paul, and he thought that if they could spend some time together away from the pressure of performing, they'd have a better chance of figuring out where their relationship was heading - if it was heading anywhere at all. He wondered if Paul would mind if he went to Mykonos with him.....he didn't want to crowd him, but.....
In the end, it was Paul who solved the problem. He casually dropped a large envelope on the table in front of Tim at breakfast one morning a few days after the conclusion of the Festival.
"What's this?" Tim asked, curious.
"Your tickets and vouchers." Paul smiled mischievously. "How else are you going to get to Mykonos?"
Tim could only stare at Paul, his jaw dropping, eyes wide with surprise. Richard nearly choked on his toast as he struggled not to laugh.
"Mykonos?" Tim finally managed to gasp.
"Yeah - you've heard of it, haven't you? Small place - one of the Greek Islands - nice beaches, relaxed atmosphere." Paul teased him.
"Are you sure, Paul?" Tim stared at him, his expression unreadable.
"I'm sure. We need some time together, don't you think?" Paul suddenly felt shy under Tim's intense scrutiny. "You don't have to come - it was just a thought." He said softly, suddenly uncertain about whether he'd done the right thing.
"No." Tim smiled. "Mykonos sounds great."
Chapter Nineteen
The first week on Mykonos flew by. Tim and Paul spent hours exploring the island both together and on their own, talking, getting to know each other better, and, occasionally, getting roaring drunk with the locals.
One night, early in their second week, after they'd been out socialising with several of the other hotel guests, they headed for their rooms, slightly drunk, but very relaxed.
Tim had barely started to get undressed when there was a knock on his door. he opened it to find Paul standing there, holding a leather-bound book in his hands. He seemed nervous, and a little agitated.
"What's wrong, Paul?" Tim asked, standing back to let Paul into the room.
Paul remained standing where he was. "No, I won't come in, thanks anyway." He swallowed nervously and thrust the book towards Tim. "I wondered if you might want to read this."
Tim took the book from him and looked more closely at it. "Your journal?" He was more than a little surprised.
"Yeah." Paul avoided his gaze, suddenly more interested in his hands, which were now tightly clasped in front of him, as if he was struggling not to grab the book back from Tim. "From, well, you know when." He said so quietly that Tim had to strain to hear him.
"Oh, Paul....." Tim was deeply moved that Paul would trust him with his precious journal.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." Paul looked up at him anxiously.
Tim smiled gently at him, resting his hand lightly on his arm. "I do want to Paul - if you're really sure about this."
He could see Paul struggling with the whole idea of someone else reading any of his journals - especially this one.
"I'm sure." Paul nodded slowly. "Um, anyway, goodnight." He smiled slightly and turned away, shoulders slumped, moving quickly before he changed his mind about letting Tim read what he had written.
"Goodnight, Paul." Tim called softly to Paul's retreating back.
---------
Back in his room, Paul threw himself onto his bed, already worrying about what Tim would think about what he'd written in the journal. He hoped he hadn't just made a huge mistake, but there was no other way he could think of to let Tim know the full story of what had happened - and until he knew that, he didn't see how it would be possible for them to work out what was happening between them.
Sighing, he dragged himself into the bathroom for a shower. Maybe it would help him relax, otherwise he was certain that he wouldn't get any sleep that night.
---------
Tim stared at the journal for a long moment before he found the courage to open it. Why had Paul wanted him to read it? Was he trying to tell him something?
He sat on his bed, leaning back on a pillow he'd propped up against the wall, and began to read.
---------
"Fuck!" Paul sat up in bed and threw back the bedclothes in frustration. There was no way he was going to get any sleep. He stumbled around the darkened room, pulling on his shorts.
Maybe some fresh air would help.
---------
Tears ran freely down Tim's face as he read the journal. He finally realised how deeply in love Paul and Marco had been. Marco had almost literally swept Paul off his feet, and, from Paul's memory of the things that they'd said and done, Paul had stolen Marco's heart almost as soon as he'd met him.
Typically, the writing was often interspersed with Paul's exquisite charicatures and small, perfect drawings. He had an incredible memory for detail, as Tim already knew, and had even included several small sketches of the other clients at the cafe where he'd waited for Marco on that fateful day in Naples.
He put the journal aside and made himself a mug of coffee before reading any further, knowing basically what was to come. If he was absolutely truthful, he really didn't want to read the details of what had happened when they'd been kidnapped, but he felt he had to. Paul had trusted him with something incredibly personal, and he owed it to him to read the whole thing.
Paul was a very private person, and for him to have given Tim the journal to read still shocked him, and made him feel both humbled and privileged. Finishing the coffee, he turned resolutely back to the journal.
---------
An increasingly loud knocking at the door roused Tim from his sleep. He'd fallen into a restless sleep just after dawn after finishing reading Paul's journal. His dreams had been a strange mixture of himself, Paul, and Marco. The imagery in the journal had been so vivid that he had almost believed that he'd been there with Paul when Marco had been shot.
That Paul had seriously considered suicide after Marco's death had shocked him at first, but, as he thought about it, he could understand it.
The knocking grew more insistent. Tim opened the door, half expecting to see Paul, although it was a bit early for him to be awake. He dragged the door open and peered blearily out into the already bright sunshine. "Richard?"
Chapter Twenty
"Is Paul here?" Richard looked tired and anxious.
"No." Tim shook his head. "He's in his room."
"No, he's not." Richard shook his head. "I've just checked there."
"What's this all about anyway?" Tim wanted to know. "I thought you were supposed to be in England."
"I was. I got a call from the Italian equivalent of the Attorney General's office." Richard told him. Richard's aunt had agreed to be their point of contact when they'd moved on from Edinburgh. Paul's mother had given the number to the person from the Italian embassy in Canberra who had contacted her.
"What on earth did they want?" Tim was confused.
"They've found the men who murdered Marco." Richard said quietly. "I got the first 'plane over - it's not something I wanted to have to tell Paul over the 'phone."
"What!" Tim sat down abruptly.
"And there's something else." Richard sank wearily into another chair. "They know Paul's in Europe."
"They?" Tim felt himself go cold all over.
"The terrorist group."
"Oh, fuck!"
"Exactly. There'll be someone from Italy arriving here this afternoon to see Paul. I think they're going to want him to testify."
---------
The night spent sitting on the beach had been amazingly restful. Even though he hadn't slept, the soothing sound of the waves had lulled him into a light half-doze. And the sunrise had been breathtakingly beautiful.
Paul looked up in surprise when he heard his name being called. He was even more surprised when he saw Tim and Richard hurrying along the beach towards him. What the hell was Richard doing here?
He stood and brushed the sand off his shorts and started to walk towards them.
---------
"Hi Richard!" Paul gave him a quick hug, then noticed the look on his face. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Richard had seen how relaxed Paul was and it almost broke his heart to be the one to have to undo all the good that his holiday had done for him.
"Let's all sit down." Tim suggested, moving so that Paul was between himself and Richard.
They sat, Paul looking from one to the other in concern. "What is it?"
---------
Paul was almost too calm. Tim and Richard exchanged a worried look. They'd expected a whole range of potential reactions from Paul, but not that.
"Are you sure you're okay, Paul?" Tim asked yet again as they followed him into his room.
"I'm okay." Paul nodded. He understood their concern, but all he could feel at that moment was an icy satisfaction that the men had been caught. He wanted them to pay for what they'd done - and he wanted to be there to see it. Italy still carried the death penalty for crimes like kidnapping and murder.
---------
They stayed close to the hotel for the rest of the morning, trying not to get on each other's nerves.
After lunch, they returned to Paul's room to wait.
---------
Even though they'd been expecting it, the knock on the door made them all jump. Tim insisted on answering the door. He opened it part way and stared at the three people standing on the doorstep.
"Juliana?" He thought he recognised the woman from several drawings in Paul's journal.
She shot him a startled look. "Do I know you?" Her English was only very slightly accented.
"Um, no." Tim smiled. "I just recognised you from one of Paul's drawings." He stood back, holding the door wide open. "Come in."
---------
Paul had started moving towards the door as soon as he'd heard Juliana's voice. They hugged each other tightly, tears in their eyes.
"Who's that?" Richard asked Tim softly, but Paul heard him.
"This is Juliana D'Angelo - Marco's youngest sister." He said, turning towards Tim and Richard, his arm still around Juliana's waist. "Juliana, these are my two best friends - Tim Ferguson." Tim smiled and nodded. "And Richard Fidler." Richard smiled.
Juliana smiled at them, then returned her attention to Paul. "You look well, Paolo." She stroked his cheek softly.
"Thanks." Paul blushed. "So do you. How are the rest of the family?"
Juliana sighed. "Under great stress at the moment, carino. And very worried about you."
"Me?" Paul was surprised. "Why would they be worried about me?"
"Because Marco loved you, and because there have been certain...threats." Juliana told him quietly.
One of the two men who had accompanied Juliana fidgeted impatiently.
"Ah, forgive me." Juliana murmured. "Paolo, this is Captain Luciano Marchesi of the Italian Police, and Alessandro Patrisi, Senior Counsel with the Italian Atorney General's Office." She used the English equivalents of their ranks.
Paul nodded warily at the two men.
Chapter Twenty One
Patrisi wasted no time getting down to business. "Would you be willing to testify against the men who kidnapped you, Mr McDermott?"
"Absolutely." Paul said firmly. "Although I don't know how much use my testimony will be. The men wore balaclavas whenever they were in the room with us - and they never spoke in English."
"Perhaps there were some distinguishing features about them that you might recall." Marchesi suggested, although not really expecting much.
Some of the colour left Paul's face, but he nodded. "There were a few things, I guess. One of the men had a scar on the back of his hand - sort of shaped like a butterfly." More colour drained from his face as he remembered that hand holding one of the machine guns which had been used to murder Marco.
"Ah, see? Already you have remembered something of use." Patrisi smiled encouragingly. He'd read the original report. Paul hadn't been able to provide any information after he'd woken up in the hospital. He'd been too deeply traumatised at the time. Now, however, it looked as though he might actually be able to help.
"What exactly are the risks if Paul testifies?" Tim wanted to know.
Patrisi looked at Marchesi.
"There have been rumours that the group will make an attempt on Mr McDermott's life if he returns to Italy and testifies. We will, of course assign officers to protect him." The stern-faced police office said soberly. He looked at Tim and Richard. "The threat would extend to anyone who accompanied Mr McDermott."
"Oh, I'll testify all right." Paul stated resolutely.
"And we'll most certainly be going with him." Richard said flatly. Tim nodded in agreement.
---------
The short flight to Italy was accomplished in one of the D'Angelo family's private jets. Paul couldn't help but be reminded of the last time he'd travelled this way - and how that trip had ended.
--------
Juliana caught Tim's eye and gestured for him to meet her in the small lounge area at the back of the jet.
"You and Paolo are together, yes?"
Tim blushed. "Not yet - not really."
She smiled understandingly. "But you would like to be, no?"
Tim nodded.
"I am pleased. He deserves to have love in his life. Marco would not have wanted him to be alone and unhappy."
"They loved each other very much."
"Yes, they did." Juliana nodded. "My family were very worried about Paolo after Marco died. We were very much afraid that he would choose to end his life rather than go on living without Marco."
"He considered it." Tim told her quietly.
Juliana grimaced. "I had thought as much." She sighed.
---------
Richard glanced back to where Juliana and Tim were talking. "They seem very cosy." He noted with a smile.
Paul chuckled softly. "If I know Juliana, she's probably asking Tim if he and I are an item."
"And are you?" Richard asked softly.
"Not yet." Paul's eyes had a faraway look in them as he replied. "Maybe we will be." He shrugged. "Only time will tell."
---------
Their arrival in Italy was very low-key. They were taken straight from the plane to several waiting, unmarked police cars. The trial was to be held in Rome, but until it started, they would be staying at the D'Angelo family estate in Florence.
Paul stared out the window as the car he was travelling in wound its way through the streets of Florence. A thousand tiny details came back to him as he looked out at the city that he and Marco had explored together. Unconsciously, he reached out and grasped Tim's hand.
---------
The car carrying Paul and Tim was the last to pull up in front of the D'Angelo family home. Paul hesitated before he stepped out. He stared apprehensively at the huge mansion - looking anywhere but at the four people who were waiting to speak to him. He heard Juliana taking care of introducting Tim and Richard.
Just seeing the house again was so very painful for him. If it felt like that for him, how much worse must it be for Marco's family to have him back to remind them of what had happened?
He was startled when he was engulfed in a warm hug. Looking up, he could clearly see the tears in Marco's father's eyes.
"It has been too long, Paolo." Luciano D'Angelo said simply, hugging him again.
"I'm sorry." Paul whispered, very much afraid that his control over his emotions was about to shatter.
A moment later it did, as Marco's mother, Isabella, and his other two sisters, Lucia and Mariana, came up to embrace him. Juliana joined them as they all clung to each other, tears streaming from their eyes.
Chapter Twenty Two
The group moved into the house at the urging of the police, who disliked having so many targets standing around in the open. Luciano led them through to one of the formal dining rooms. Paul and Isabella brought up the rear, arms around each other's waists, talking softly, trailing some way behind the others.
One of the first things that Tim and Richard noticed was the portrait hung above the mantlepiece. They knew without asking that it was of Marco. Whoever had painted it had managed to make it so lifelike that they wouldn't have been surprised if Marco had stepped from the painting and started to speak to them.
"My son." Luciano said softly, noticing the direction of their gazes. "Paolo painted it when he stayed here after he was released from the hospital."
Tim and Richard could only nod in response.
Paul entered the room with Isabella a few moments later. He stopped dead when he saw the painting, the colour draining from his face. Isabella tightened her arm around his waist comfortingly.
"I should have told you, Paolo." She said apologetically. "We discovered the painting after you'd left us. I hope you don't mind."
Paul's eyes glistened brightly with unshed tears. "Of course I don't mind." He said quietly.
---------
The three days that they stayed on the estate were both painful and peaceful for Paul. Painful because the memories of the time he and Marco had spent there brought with them fresh grief. Peaceful because he was able to spend hours just sitting quietly or wandering through the gardens. Several times he found himself standing, staring off into space, outside the family vault, where Marco had been laid to rest. Juliana usually managed to find him, wherever he was. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when he needed company, and when he needed to be left alone.
Finally, though, it was time to head for Rome. Paul was not allowed to travel with the family - the police considered the risk too high. Instead, he was virtually smuggled out of the house the night before, and taken to Rome aboard a chartered plane. Tim and Richard had wanted to go with him, but he'd gently refused their offer. He was a target, and he didn't want there to be the slightest chance that they could be hurt - or worse - because of him.
---------
The trial was a nightmare for Paul, and for Marco's family. During the course of proceedings, all three videos were played in their entirety. Paul sat, expressionless, between Juliana and Tim as he watched the beating being administered. Only the tight grip he had on their hands indicated that he was feeling anything at all.
By far the worst was the third video. He was shocked to learn that the camera had been on from when he and Marco had been dragged apart. He heard again his agonized pleas to be allowed to die in Marco's place. Saw the horror on his face when he realised that Marco was about to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Watched, tears streaming down his face, as Marco once again told him that he loved him.
The moments immediately after Marco's death had been a mystery to him - no matter what he and Doctor MacDonald had tried, he couldn't remember what had happened after Marco had fallen. Now he had his answer.
Somehow, he'd broken free of the men holding him, and had lunged at the gunmen, managing to knock one of them to the ground. As they struggled, the other gunman had moved in behind him and clubbed him over the back of the head with the handle of his gun.
The camera captured everything, up to where his limp body was dragged over and dumped beside Marco's on the floor.
Several jury members were weeping quietly as the video player was turned off and the televisions wheeled to the side of the courtroom, out of the way.
It all came back to him in a rush. He'd attacked the gunmen hoping that they would kill him, too. Instead, they'd been far more cruel, allowing him to live when the person he loved was dead.
---------
There was a brief recess after the third video was shown. The trial was in its fourth day, and Paul was scheduled to testify next. He was to be the last witness before the jury retired to consider their verdicts.
Paul, Tim, and Richard had been able to follow what was happening through the use of small earphones which transmitted an English translation of what was being said.
Paul's testimony would be conducted through an interpreter.
The three moved outside with the rest of the crowd to get some fresh air. Tim had his arm around Paul's shoulders. The police hovered protectively around them, and around the D'Angelos as well.
They were shepherded off to one side of the courthouse steps. The police considered that it offered more protection than any other position outside the court. Paul and Tim were standing slightly apart form the others. Richard was deep in conversation with Luciano about something.
---------
Paul idly scanned the faces in the crowd as he tried to calm himself down in preparation for testifying. Two faces caught his attention. He'd seen them somewhere before, hadn't he?
A puzzled frown crossed his face as he stared at them, trying to remember. They looked up at him and he suddenly knew. The cafe. They'd been at the cafe that day in Naples while he'd waited for Marco. He'd even sketched one of them.
He watched in horror as they drew handguns from their jackets and took aim at him - and at Tim, he realised, the breath seizing in his throat.
"No!" He screamed, turning to face Tim, his body between Tim and the gunmen as they opened fire.
The police officer who had been standing immediately behind Paul went down. At the same time, Tim felt Paul's body jerk with the impact of each bullet that had been meant for him.
Chapter Twenty Three
The police returned fire as people scattered, leaving the gunmen alone in the open.
Tim heard the shots, but ignored them as he gently eased Paul's limp body down onto the steps. Richard was struggling desperately to reach them, but the police guarding him and the D'Angelos dragged them back inside the relative safety of the courthouse.
---------
They sat silently awaiting the jury's return to the courtroom. Their deliberations had only taken a day - far less than anyone had expected, given the seriousness of the crimes, and the potential penalties if the five men were found guilty.
In the end, the lack of Paul's testimony hadn't hurt the prosecution's case. The attack outside the courthouse had served to clearly indicate that the group had considered whatever he might have said a threat - a big enough threat that they had sacrificed two of their members to silence him.
Finally, the wait was over and the jury solemnly filed back into the courtroom. The jury foreman stood and handed an envelope to the bailiff. He remained standing as the bailiff passed the envelope to the judge, who opened it and read the sheet of paper within before placing it and the envelope on the bench before him.
---------
There was absolute silence in the courtroom as the verdict was delivered.
Guilty. A unanimous decision on all charges.
The sentence was immediately delivered by the judge. Death.
"Paul should have been here." Tim whispered sadly to Richard as a satisfied murmur went through the crowd.
"I know." Richard nodded, reaching over and squeezing his hand comfortingly.
Unable to find any joy in the verdict, but relieved that the men who had killed Marco would finally pay for what they had done, the family exchanged hugs with each other, and with Tim and Richard, before they quietly filed from the courtroom.
---------
Tim gazed for a long moment at Paul's still, pale face. He might have thought that he was merely sleeping, his face calm and peaceful, if he hadn't known the truth.
He saw again the blood pulsing from the wound in Paul's neck, reliving his horror as he'd tried desperately to stem the flow, watching helplessly as Paul's life drained away with each beat of his heart.
"I just thought you should know." Tim said to him, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew Paul couldn't hear him, but it helped him to say it. "The verdict came in today. Guilty on all counts." He reached out to brush the hair back from the cool forehead. "Oh, God, Paul, I miss you so much." Leaning over he kissed his lips softly before turning away and stumbling from the cold, sterile room, blinded by tears.
Chapter Twenty Four
Richard came rushing into Tim's room without bothering to knock. "He's awake!"
Tim looked up at him, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. "What?"
"Paul's awake!"
---------
The D'Angelos had already been in to see him. His first question had been about Tim. The next had been about the result of the trial. Despite the fact that all five men had been found guilty, it was a hollow victory. Nothing could bring Marco back.
Tim helped as Paul sat up painfully in the hospital bed. "Thanks." Paul leaned back against the pillows, exhausted by even that small effort.
The bulletproof vest stopped all but one of the bullets - the one that had hit him in the neck. Even so, his back was covered in dark purple and black bruises, and he was stiff and sore.
"I was starting to get worried." Tim told him lightly, his tone belying the truth of his words. "About time you woke up." Paul had been unconscious since the shooting five days before.
"Yeah." Richard grinned. "You still have to write some more songs for our next lot of shows."
Paul smiled. "Typical. You could always write some yourself, you know, Richard."
"Nah." Richard shook his head and laughed. "It's easier to let you do it."
"So, when are they letting you out of here?" Tim wanted to know.
"In two days, with any luck." Paul grinned.
---------
The next morning when Tim and Richard visited Paul, he was quiet and withdrawn, his face flushed with fever from the infection that had invaded his system. They consulted with his doctor, who could only say that they had started him on massive doses of antibiotics.
When they returned in the afternoon, Paul's fever was worse. He hovered on the edge of consciousness, not even recognising them. He didn't seem to know Richard at all, and kept calling Tim 'Marco'.
Richard could see that Tim was deeply hurt, but he reasoned that, in his delirium, Paul had gone back six years in his mind, before he had even met Tim and Richard. Tim reluctantly agreed that this seemed to be the case, but it still wounded him deeply.
The fever continued to ravage Paul for another twenty-four hours. Tim stayed by his bedside for a great deal of the time. Nothing Juliana or Richard said could convince him to leave. He sat for hours, talking to Paul, holding his hand, sponging his face and chest with iced water.
---------
Tim woke to the sensation of a hand lightly stroking his hair. He'd fallen asleep sometime during the early hours of the morning, resting his head on his arms and leaning on the edge of Paul's bed.
He looked up to see Paul smiling at him. "You look terrible, Tim." Paul chuckled softly.
Tim grinned idiotically back at him. "But probably still better than you."
"Probably." Paul's smile widened.
---------
After Paul was released from the hospital, he, Richard, and Tim had spent another week with the D'Angelos while Paul gradually regained some of his strength. Finally, though, it was time to leave. After a tearful farewell to the rest of the family, Juliana drove them to the airport, where they would once again board one of the family jets. Richard was returning to England while Paul and Tim were going back to Mykonos. They'd become almost inseparable - a fact which had not escaped Juliana's eagle eye. She considered that it was only a matter of time before Paul realised how much he loved Tim - and how much Tim loved him.
Juliana hugged Tim and Richard, then turned to Paul.
"Take care of yourself, Paolo." Juliana hugged Paul tightly. "And please, stay in touch this time, all right?"
"I will." He promised. "Take care of yourself, Juliana."
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "Good luck with Tim, carino. I think he loves you very much."
Paul smiled shyly and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks. I think I love him, too."
"Then tell him, Paolo. Don't make him suffer any longer."
A shadow passed over Paul's face. "I want to.....I really do."
"Don't wait too long, Paolo." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Or I may steal him from you." She grinned.
---------
Tim and Paul had been back on Mykonos for a few days, gradually settling back into the routine they had established the first time they'd been there.
Neither one knew quite how to take the next step, and each was afraid that they would somehow ruin everything if they inadvertently did or said the wrong thing.
Their third night back, they stayed in the diningroom, talking over drinks, until the staff politely let them know that it was time for them to leave. They'd been upgraded to an apartment, at the expense of the Italian police as a way of thanking them for going to Italy. Privately, Tim thought that they'd also felt somewhat guilty that they hadn't been able to protect Paul as well as they should have. He also suspected that the D'Angelo family had exerted some of their considerable influence on Paul's behalf.
They said goodnight and went to their rooms, still without having made any breakthroughs on the relationship issue.
---------
Tim stood quietly in the doorway to Paul's room, studying him as he slept. He'd been so terribly afraid that Paul was going to die on the steps of the courthouse. The memory of it still made him feel ill.
A movement in the corner of the room distracted his attention from Paul. "What - ?" He glanced over - and stared in shock. "Marco?"
"Yes." Marco stepped forward into the light from the open doorway.
"But you're, well - " Tim broke off, not sure what to say.
"Dead? Yes. I am." Marco smiled sadly.
Paul stirred at the sound of their voices. Opening his eyes, he could only stare at Marco, shocked.
Marco sat on the edge of the bed and took Paul's hand in his. "So, my little Paolo, no more tears for me now, eh?" He reached out to stroke his fingers lightly down Paul's cheek. "It's time for you to move on, carino. Ti amo, Paolo."
"Ti amo sempre, Marco." Paul sat up and moved into Marco's embrace.
They stayed that way for a long moment before Marco gently pulled away. "Our time is gone, carino." He whispered. "It's time for you to put it behind you. I have been avenged, and I am at peace. It is my wish that you should also find peace, to move forward."
"I don't know if I can." Paul replied. "I love you so much."
"And I you." Marco kissed his lips lightly. "But you must look to the future now, my love." He turned to Tim as he stood. "Look after him. Make him happy."
"I will." Tim promised solemnly.
Marco gave him a beautiful smile. "Then I can truly be at peace." He turned back to Paul as he began to fade from their sight. "Felicita, amore mio. Ti amo sempre."
"I love you, too." Paul whispered, tears streaming down his face.
Chapter Twenty Five
Tim sat up abruptly in his bed. The dream had been so real that for a moment he wondered how he'd gotten back to his own room.
"Marco?" He heard Paul call out and hurriedly headed in to check on him.
"Are you all right, Paul?" He paused in the doorway, in almost exactly the same position he'd been in during the dream.
Paul was sitting up in bed, his face wet with tears, staring around as if looking for something - or someone.
As Tim spoke, he slumped back down in the bed. "Yeah. I'm fine. I guess I was just dreaming. It seemed so real - Marco was here, and so were you...." His voice trailed off, ending in a muffled sob as he buried his face in the pillow.
Tim was startled by what Paul had said. How had they managed to share the same dream? He pushed the thought from his mind as he looked at Paul, who was crying silently into his pillow. Sitting on the side of the bed, he drew Paul into his arms and held him as he cried. Long minutes passed until Paul finally stopped trembling. He looked up into Tim's face. Their eyes met.
"You still love him, don't you?" Tim asked very quietly.
Paul held his gaze as he nodded.
"I understand." Tim sighed.
"Do you think it's possible to love more than one person, Timmy?" Paul asked, trailing his fingers gently along Tim's jaw.
Tim's breathing quickened at the contact, and the look in Paul's eyes. "Yes." He nodded.
Paul smiled as he reached up to kiss him. "I love you, Tim."
"And I love you, Paul."
---------
Oh, God! Tim groaned as Paul kissed him again, more passionately than before. He pushed Paul onto his back and leaned over him, his hand trailing lightly across the smooth skin of his chest as he thrust his tongue into his mouth.
Paul gasped, his back arching with pleasure as Tim's hand slipped into his pyjama pants. Tim lightly stroked him, smiling as he felt Paul's shudder and heard his low moan of delight. In one swift move, he dragged Paul's pyjama pants completely off. Capturing Paul's hands, drew them up above his head and held them there with one hand while the other continued to stroke and caress Paul's body.
Paul's breathing was ragged as Tim delicately moved his hand back down to his groin. Tim's tongue continued to probe his mouth as he writhed beneath him.
Little groans of ecstasy escaped from Paul as Tim slowly kissed his way down his body. He paused to lick, nip, and tease his nipples before continuing to move slowly downward.
"Oh, fuck!" Paul couldn't suppress his exclamation as Tim's hot, moist mouth finally engulfed him. His hands - now free - moved to Tim's head. He ran his fingers through the thick dark hair, luxuriating in its silkiness.
"Oh, God! Oh, please!" He gasped as he continued to writhe helplessly, his hips firmly held down as Tim continued to drive him wild with his lips and tongue.
Realising that Paul was very close to orgasm, Tim redoubled his efforts, sucking strongly as Paul began to convulse under his hands. He licked and swallowed eagerly as Paul came then kissed his way back up his body, covering it with his own, but careful not to let Paul bear his full weight.
Paul brought his legs up and wrapped them around Tim's waist as Tim's mouth claimed his in a crushing, urgent kiss. He could feel how hard Tim was and moved his hips invitingly as he sucked erotically on Tim's tongue.
"Are you sure, Paul?" Tim managed to gasp.
"Oh, God, yes! Very sure!" Paul panted, his own need nearly as great as Tim's. "Please, Tim? I want you so badly!"
Tim groaned. Reaching for the oil that he'd been using earlier in the day to massage Paul's back, he spread it liberally over himself and gently probed Paul with slick fingers, preparing him.
"Now, please!" Paul almost sobbed the words.
Tim entered him slowly, trying to give him time to adjust before he lost all control. Oh, fuck! It felt so good!
Paul bit hard on Tim's shoulder as he felt him moving slowly into him. Oh, Jesus! It hurt! But there was no way he would have stopped Tim. Once the initial pain had subsided waves of pleasure flowed through his body. Tears welled in his eyes as Tim paused. He loved him so much. After Marco, he'd never thought that he could care this much for anyone again. He'd been wrong.
Tim began to slowly thrust and pull back, groaning softly as he felt Paul's hips move to complement him.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I can't hold back any longer!" He whispered as he felt his control crumbling.
Paul was beyond being able to reply. He dragged Tim's head down and kissed him hungrily as Tim began to pound into him.
They clutched at each other almost desperately as they reached orgasm together, each crying out the other's name.
They lay together, struggling for breath, for a long moment. As he carefully withdrew and moved to lie beside Paul, Tim saw that he was crying again.
"Oh, Christ, Paul! I'm sorry - I didn't mean to hurt you - " Paul covered his lips with his fingers to silence him, smiling at him through his tears.
"You didn't." He whispered, kissing his neck and chest. "I'm just so happy - I never thought I'd ever be this happy again."
Tim's arms tightened around him protectively. "It was only a matter of time, Paul." He told him softly.
As they drifted off to sleep, Tim could picture Marco's smiling face in his mind. "I leave him in your care." He seemed to hear Marco's voice say. "Keep him safe."
I will Tim sent the thought to wherever Marco was now. I love him too.
THE END