The phone rang insistently, breaking the silence of sleep. JC struggled to answer it, kept from doing so by Justin’s arm and leg thrown over JC’s body. He shifted the younger man off to the other side of the bed and grabbed the receiver. “lo?” JC said, his voice scratchy with sleep. “Is Justin there?” a male voice asked. JC blinked his eyes awake. A phone call for Justin? In the year they’d been together, no one outside of Justin’s employer had ever called for him. JC sat up and turned on the light, noting the time was after three. “Who’s calling, please?” JC asked. A pause. “Jack Tremont.” JC waited for more information, but heard only breathing across the phone line. “One sec,” he told Jack Tremont, and covered the receiver with a hand and shook the still sleeping Justin with the other. “Just…Justin.” Justin snuffled against being roused, burying his head deeper into his pillow. JC shook him again. “Justin!” he said again, raising his voice a bit. A sleepy head popped up. “Wha?” came the grumpy response. “You have a phone call,” JC told him, holding out the phone to Justin. This got Justin’s attention. The boy sat up, sheet slipping down his bare chest to pool at his waist. “A call? For me?” He seemed as surprised as JC was about the idea of someone calling him. “Did they say who it was?” Justin asked, reaching for the phone. “Someone named Jack Tremont,” JC said, watching in surprise as Justin physically recoiled from the offered phone. “Hang up,” Justin instructed tersely, jumping out of the bed. “Justin…” JC stared at Justin, baffled by the other man’s response. “Hang up the fucking phone!” he shouted. JC hung up the phone. It immediately rang again. JC ignored it, instead watching as Justin pulled on his pants, tension visible in every line of his body. “Justin…” Justin nodded at the ringing phone. “Tell that bastard he has the wrong number,” Justin said, leaving the room. JC answered the phone. “Hello?” “We got disconnected, I guess.” It was Tremont again. “Is Justin there?” JC took a breath. “Justin is unavailable right now, could I have a number for him to call you?” Silence on the other end, then a grunt. “I guess.” JC scrambled for a pen and paper. He didn’t find any paper, so he wrote the number on his hand. JC noted absently it was a Los Angeles number. “I’ll give Justin the message,” JC said, hanging up fast before Justin came back inside their room. JC found Justin on their small balcony, smoking a cigarette in the dark. He sat in the other chair and waited. “Jack Tremont is my latest step-father,” Justin finally said, his voice bitter. JC nodded, figuring it was something like that. “He threw me out of my house when I was fourteen.” Justin took a deep drag on his cigarette before tossing it off the balcony. “Told me my mother had done her job, that he wasn’t going to pay for anyone else’s kid, and I should just get on with my life somewhere else.” He turned to JC, his eyes bright in the moonlight. “So I did.” JC’s mind flashed back to the tough punk kid he’d met a year ago. Justin had been a gang leader who beat up on johns, stealing their money and leaving bruised and bleeding in the streets. “How do you think he found you?” Justin shrugged. “He’s got friends who are cops,” Justin explained. “Probably found me that way.” JC chose his next words carefully. “Justin…if he went to the trouble to find you, maybe you should find out what he wants.” A small laugh shook Justin’s shoulders. “How did I know you’d say that?” he asked JC. JC smiled softly. “Because you know me too well, I guess.” Justin sighed. “I don’t care what he wants, Jayce.” Justin stood up and pulled JC inside the apartment. “I just don’t care.” JC wondered about Justin’s words as the two men lay back in bed. Justin was tense and awake as he lay facing away from JC. JC leaned over to his lover, pulling Justin close to his own body. “I love you,” JC whispered in Justin’s ear, holding the young man to him until JC felt him fall asleep. JC stayed awake, though, looking at the phone number on his hand and knowing what he had to do. *** JC opened the door to the apartment, both glad and sorry that Justin was home. Justin had finally gotten a day shift, and was home before JC most days. But today, of all days, JC would be happy if Justin was gone for a while more. Just a few hours…enough time for JC to figure out how to tell the other man what he’d learned from Jack Tremont. Of course JC had called the Justin’s step-father. It wasn’t in JC’s nature to let something like this go. He realized Justin would be angry at JC’s actions, but JC couldn’t change who he was. A fixer, a trier. But what JC had found out wasn’t what he’d expected. He walked to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Justin stirring a pot of sauce and watching boiling noodles. “Don’t just stand there,” Justin said to him without even turning around. “Go set the table.” JC laughed, coming into the kitchen and slipping his arms around Justin’s waist. “Smells good,” JC said. He took a taste of the sauce that Justin offered. “Tastes good, too,” he said, slipping Justin’s earlobe into his mouth. Maybe I won’t tell him yet… , closing his eyes against the truth. Justin shivered and pushed JC away. “Watch the boiling water!” he scolded. JC laughed and picked up the plates, setting their small table for dinner. Justin served the spaghetti, sitting down at the table with JC, smiling as the older man said grace silently to himself. They ate in a stretching silence until Justin finally noticed the strained look in JC’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” Justin asked. No use putting off the inevitable. “Justin, I called Jack Tremont.” Silence. The two men looked at each other; JC’s eyes held hope that Justin would understand. Justin’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “What did he want?” Justin asked, turning his attention back to the table. “Money, right?” He stabbed at the food on his plate angrily with his fork. “Always figured he’d track me down once I’d gotten settled. Knew he’d realize that I’d be worth something after all…” Justin’s words were stopped by JC’s hands over his own. “Justin…” JC waited until Justin looked at JC again. “Justin, you’re mother is dead.” *** JC’s fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel as the car inched through the drive through line. Once the two men had arrived in LA, JC had left Justin at the motel while he’d gone out. JC had located the funeral home, figuring that finding it ahead of time would be a smart thing to do rather than trying to locate it in the morning. He’d found the location, and then decided to run though a burger place for some food for the two of them. JC thoughts focused on Justin as he drove a bit closer to the order window. The younger man had been quiet for most of the trip down from Seattle. They’d both been able to get a few days off of work, but no way could they afford airline. So they drove night and day for over a thousand miles, sleeping in the car until they hit LA. JC had automatically driven to the only motel he knew about, the one he’d stayed in when he was searching for Tyler last year. Justin had noticed, and had even smiled as they entered the room, so similar to one they had shared once upon a time. Then he’d just flopped on the bed and turned on the television. “At least he said good-bye when I left,” JC said to the empty car as he drove away with his food. As he steered the car back in the direction of the motel, JC finally admitted that he was worried, no, more than worried about Justin. He was scared. Scared at Justin’s closed off attitude, scared that Justin hadn’t talked about any of this, scared that Justin…no, he couldn’t even think that. Because without Justin… Justin was still on the bed where JC had left him, but perked up a bit when JC entered with the food. There was still an unspoken agreement that they’d not talk about anything important, and instead, they watched television and ate their burgers, laughing occasionally at the antics of Jerry, George and Kramer. After eating, Justin yawned loudly and laid down on the bed, dropping off to sleep quickly. JC cleaned up the food, placed the bag of trash outside their room, and after turning off the lights and taking off his clothes, laid on the bed next to Justin, pulling the younger man close to him and covering them both with a blanket. *** JC awoke later, disoriented to his surroundings. He sat up, remembering the motel and Justin and Los Angeles. He looked down at the bed, noting it was empty, but saw a light from under the bathroom door. He got up and tapped on the door. “Justin?” he called out, surprised as the door opened under his hand. It was empty. Justin was gone. *** JC was back in the car, cruising the streets of Los Angeles, again searching for someone he loved. He drove around the areas he’d driven last year, slowly stopping at curbs, waiting for punk boys or girls to approach his car. He asked about Justin, but no one admitted to knowing or seeing him. He never stayed long, worried about cops and gangs, knowing getting picked up for solicitation wouldn’t help Justin. Nor would getting the crap beat out of him, he thought with a grim laugh. Twice he drove by police cars and ambulances, lights flashing and people scrambling as they worked on injured people. Each time, JC held his breath until he saw that none of the injured was Justin. He drove for hours, wondering, worrying, and getting more frustrated and angrier by the minute. He saw a diner up ahead, and decided to stop, get some coffee, and call the motel room on the off-chance that Justin had returned. He ordered a cup to go, and went to the phone, dialing the number to the room he’d scratched onto his hand before leaving, getting no answer. He paid for his coffee, turning to the door when he saw him, sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette. He was punked out more than JC had ever seen him—hair, eyes, clothes. And even from this distance, JC could see the bruised and bloody knuckles of his hands. Justin looked up as a shadow crossed his table. “You found me,” he said, looking back down quickly. JC slid into the seat across from Justin. “I found you.” Justin sighed. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Jayce.” “Maybe not, but you know me,” JC said, tamping down the anger he felt. “I have to try and save everyone. Even you.” He reached out and lifted one of Justin’s hands, being careful of the scrapes that seeped blood. “Anyone special?” Justin shrugged. JC released Justin’s hand and rose from the booth. “The funeral is at ten,” he reminded Justin. “I’ll be at the motel if you need a ride.” With that, he turned and walked away, fighting with all his might the need to turn back to Justin. He was opening the car door when he heard Justin’s voice. “I told you I wasn’t worth it,” Justin said. “A long time ago. Don’t blame me if you didn’t listen.” JC turned. Justin was a few feet away from him, his body tense. “I remember everything you told me,” JC said. “For instance, I remember you said you loved me.” Justin flinched. “I do love you,” he said hoarsely. “But not enough,” JC responded. “Not enough to love yourself, too.” “Don’t go all psychological on me, JC,” Justin retorted. “This has nothing to do with how I feel about myself.” “Bullshit,” JC said, slamming the door and approaching Justin where he stood. “It has everything to do with you, and how you think you should be treated. Your mother didn’t love you enough, so therefore, no one should love you. Not me, not anyone.” “That’s not it…” Justin argued. “Yes, it is.” JC got even closer. “You’ll never accept that someone, anyone could love you for YOU.” Their faces were inches apart. “But I do, Justin. I love you for you. I love you more than anything, more than anyone, more than my own life.” JC’s head snapped back a bit. “So, if you want to beat someone down, here I am. Justin blinked. “I’m not going to fight you,” Justin whispered. “Why not?” JC asked, pushing Justin on the shoulder, wondering where his anger was coming from, knowing he should stop, realizing he couldn’t. “Why not me? I’m safe, I won’t get you arrested.” JC pushed Justin again. “You want to use your fists on someone to feel better about yourself, do it with me.” Again, JC shoved Justin, this time deftly avoiding Justin’s hand at it tried to prevent the contact. “I love you that much, Justin. Come on. Take it out on me.” JC raised both hands and shoved Justin so hard the younger man stumbled. Justin glared. “Stop it. Just. Stop it,” he ordered, walking backwards away from JC. “No,” JC said, keeping pace with the retreating Justin. “You want a punching bag, Justin, then use me,” he continued, shoving the younger man again and again and again… …until Justin finally responded. His own arms flailed out, stopping JC’s actions and pushing JC hard, so hard that he landed against the car with a thud. Justin’s came after JC, fist raised, aiming it at JC’s head, stopping it only inches from JC’s face. Their eyes locked, their breathing was hard, their nerves taut. “Do it,” JC whispered to Justin as the boy stood over him, quivering with energy. Justin mouth slammed onto JC’s in a hard kiss, devouring JC’s mouth with hot lips and strong teeth. JC groaned against Justin, returning the kiss with equal fervor, pulling Justin close as Justin pressed him against the car. Their cocks were already hard, straining against their clothes as they rubbed together. Justin reached behind JC, fumbling with the door handle, finally opening it and shoving JC inside, flopping JC down onto the back seat as Justin scrambled in after him. Pants were shoved down as Justin’s hands run over JC’s body, rubbing the exposed skin with a rough hand. Justin’s grasp found JC’s cock, squeezing the strong flesh. For his part, JC was just as aggressive, pushing down Justin’s pants, cupping Justin’s ass, groaning as their hard, hot flesh finally contacted. Somehow with the close confines of the backseat, Justin managed to get JC’s pants off and slid between the older man’s thighs, shoving JC’s legs up and propping them up on the seatbacks. He hovered over JC, breathing hard, sweat dripping into JC’s face. “Do it,” JC whispered again, and Justin plunged inside. It was hard and nasty and rough. It hurt, both of them. It wasn’t love…it was barely sex. It was anger and emotion, all the rage and fury both were experiencing condensed into the small backseat. Reality didn’t exist anymore…nothing existed except the two of them and this moment. After his own climax, JC felt Justin come with a groan, collapsing onto JC, a mass of hot, sticky boy. They lay together for a moment, then Justin raised his head. JC wished he could read Justin’s eyes in the gloomy dark, wondering what the other man was thinking. He decided to chance it. “Justin…” Like a shot, Justin bolted off JC and scrambled out of the car, pulling up his pants quickly. JC struggled with his own clothes and followed Justin out of the car. As he expected, Justin was walking, almost running away. “Justin!” JC called after him. Surprisingly, Justin stopped. JC caught up with Justin and they stood under the light of a streetlamp. Justin’s face was turned down, away from JC’s searching gaze. “Justin, look at me,” he asked, his hand fluttering near Justin’s head, itching to take Justin into his arms but knowing that was the wrong thing to do. Finally, Justin lifted his head. “I have to go,” he said, his eyes beseeching JC to understand. JC nodded. “I know, baby,” he agreed. “But please, just remember one thing. I love you. No matter what.” Now his hand did lift, his fingers caressing Justin’s cheek. “I love you.” Justin covered JC’s hand with his own and brought it to his lips. He kissed the warm palm of JC’s hand, then let it drop. JC’s eyes filled with tears as he watched Justin walk away. *** A cold wind whipped across JC’s face as he stood next to the casket. The funeral was over, the graveside service completed, and the small gathering had departed, leaving him alone. Justin had not shown up. During the funeral, JC had sat in the back of the small chapel, trying his best to be invisible but nevertheless receiving speculative glances. Finally, a man had approached and asked flat who the hell he was. JC had explained he was there as a friend of Justin’s. JC had been left alone after that. No one but the funeral director had spoken during the service, and those attending seemed uncomfortable with the glowing words spoken about the departed woman by a stranger. Now JC was alone with her, his heart aching and his anger rising. He walked through the scattered wooden chairs toward the casket, wiping a stray tear that had leaked from his eye. “I was taught never to speak ill of the dead,” he started, glancing around to make sure he was alone. “But you’ve made it too easy not to. Because frankly, if anyone in this world deserves to be dead, it’s you.” JC paused, waiting for the lightening bolt from God to strike him down for saying such a thing. He took the fact that it didn’t’ happen as a good sign and continued. “I’ve never hated anyone like I hate you,” he told the dead woman. “Do you have any idea how you hurt Justin? With your selfish actions and your downright criminal neglect? How anyone could hurt someone so much is beyond me, but to do it to your own son. Your own child…it’s beyond my understanding. What you did was evil, and I hope you burn in hell.” JC wiped another tear away as the sun started to peek through the gray clouds. A ghost of a smile passed his lips as he looked at the coffin again. “But despite it all, he survived. Did you know that? He did. He grew into such a fine man, a protective man. You threw him out into the streets, but he made those streets his own, taking care of other kids like him, making sure no one hurt them any longer.” A rough chuckle. “He nearly killed me when we first met, thinking I was someone who’d hurt one of his friends, thinking I was on the prowl.” JC nodded. “Yes, that’s right. He was hurt, but managed to turn that hurt into something positive.” “But still, he’s scared. Scared of life, of love, of commitment, of me.” JC sighed, the thought that had been burning in the back of his brain finally coming to the front. “And what about me? Where do I fit in? I love him so much, need him so much, but I’m not sure it’s enough. Not sure I’m enough to make him realize, enough to show him that he can be loved, is so worthy of love, and needs my love.” He sighed again. “And does he love me? Or by dying, did you finally manage to kill the last bit of emotion out of him?” “I love you.” JC turned around fast, so fast, he nearly stumbled over the chair next to him. Justin stood there, tired, bruised, but there. In front of JC. There. “How long have you been there?” JC asked, gripping the chair for support. “Long enough,” Justin said, stepping closer to JC. “I’m sorry, Justin. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful…” Justin waved JC silent. “You figured out a way to say things I’d been wanting, needing to say to her, Jayce.” He walked past JC to the coffin. “Things that have been killing me inside, but I was always to cowardly to say.” You’re not a coward,” JC protested. “Aren’t I?” Justin asked, turning back to JC. What do I do when things get tough?” Justin grimaced. “I run. I beat up weaker people. I hide. While you,” Justin’s eyes skimmed the cemetery. “You face things head on. You find the strength to fight for what you want, even with a dead woman.” Justin closed the distance between them, raising a hand to lightly touch JC’s face. “You are the bravest man I know.” JC felt his cheeks burn hot despite the cold air. “Justin…” “Shh…” Justin whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips against JC’s. The kiss was soft and hesitant, but to JC, it felt like life renewing itself against his mouth. Justin pulled back a bit. “Can you forgive me?” he asked, brushing the wetness from JC’s face with his thumbs. JC reached up and covered Justin’s hands with his own. “Of course,” he said simply. “No one ever said it would be easy, right?” He smiled shakily. “But something this special is worth it, right?” Justin nodded and was lowering his head for another kiss when a voice made actions still and his blood freeze. “Seems I was right to throw you out, boy.” The lovers separated and turned. It was the man from the funeral, the one who had asked JC who he was. “Hello, Jack,” Justin said. Jack. Jack Tremont, the man who had thrown Justin out after convincing his mother to let him. JC felt Justin tense and slipped his hand into Justin’s. Tremont saw the action and sneered nastily. “Told your mother you’d grow into a pansy, and I was right. Best thing she ever did was throwing you out, boy.” “It worked out for the best for all of us, Jack,” Justin agreed. “You know that I eventually would have killed you if I’d have stayed.” Tremont grunted. “You would have tried, boy, but I doubt you could have pulled it off.” “If you’d have touched me one more time, I would have.” JC looked from Justin to Tremont and back again, putting it all together. “Justin?” “Figured it out, did you?” Justin said with a bitter smile. “So yeah, I wasn’t too upset I had to leave home. Just that my mother chose him over me.” “He raped you?” “Rape?” Tremont laughed, an ugly sound in the cold wind. “He wanted it, each and every time.” He turned away from them and walked off. “Don’t come by the house, boy, unless you want it again.” Tremont never saw the chair that slammed across his back. JC had picked it up and hurled it so fast that neither Tremont nor Justin could react. Then JC was on the older man, pounding his fists into the fleshy face. “He was thirteen-fucking-years-old, you bastard,” JC yelled as he straddled Tremont, picking his head up and slamming it back to the hard ground to emphasize each word. “Thirteen! You sick fuck, bloody bastard I’ll kill you myself!” “JC!” Justin grabbed at JC as the older man continued to pound on Tremont. “Jayce, baby, stop.” He pulled at JC, tumbling them both to the ground off of Tremont. Justin struggled as JC scrambled back to Tremont. Justin tackled JC down, holding him fast as he shouted to Tremont. “Get the fuck out of here, Jack, unless you want me to let him finish.’ Tremont needed no second urging, rising to his feet and practically running away. JC struggled against Justin’s arms for a moment longer, then relaxed when he heard a car drive away. “Why did you stop me?” JC said, shrugging off Justin’s hold. “He deserved it, dammit, he hurt you!” Justin just smiled and pulled JC close, kissing him hard and hot. “I love you,” Justin told him. “But Jack Tremont is not worth it.” “But, Justin.” JC was confused. “Don’t you, how can you…I don’t understand!” “Jack was every guy I beat up, Jayce,” Justin explained. “But you figured that out, too, right?” JC nodded. “Well, last night, after, well, after last night, I realized that wasn’t the answer. When I almost hurt you, when I did hurt you, I realized, I wasn’t hurting Jack, I was hurting you.” He pulled JC close. “And I will never, ever, want to hurt you again.” JC rested his head on Justin’s shoulder. “My head is spinning, Justin,” JC said. “What does it all mean?” Justin tugged JC’s face up. “It means we need to go home and start our life.” “Our life?” “Together.” “And when something happens again?” Justin sighed. “I can’t promise I won’t try to leave…” “I know,” JC allowed. “And I can’t promise I won’t tie you down so you don’t.” “I love you, JC.” “And that’s what makes it all worthwhile,” JC said, pulling Justin close for a kiss. “Let’s go home.”