Chris heard a pair of curtains being drawn back. He opened his eyes and moaned in pure agony. He was being attacked--by the bright morning light streaming in through the sheer curtains. It was bouncing off of his face, directly into his sore eyes.

Chris wasn't a morning person, not by any stretch of the imagination. At the station, people had quickly learned not to approach him until he'd imbibed *at least* three cups of coffee, with cream and no sugar; Keller was coherent enough to actually speak or get any work done only after the caffeine had been digested--at least an hour later. Until then--the motto around the station was to walk quietly and keep a safe distance from the beast's maw.

"Oh...gees, Louise." Chris whined petulantly as he began blinking his eyes, trying desperately to ease their dryness. "Leave me ALONE!" The shadow standing in front of the window didn't retreat or redraw the offending drapes. Which meant that a swift death was imminent for this sadistic bastard. "Where's my gun?!"

"Sorry sweetie," a melodic female voice stated, as she placed her hands on her ample hips. "I was told to change these linens while that gorgeous blond of yours is busy getting some tests done. It would make it a hell of a lot easier if you got up *voluntarily*."

Chris struggled to focus his eyes on the nurse's round, friendly face. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out who she reminded him of. Rubbing a hand over his eyes didn't help one bit-- they still felt like they were full of sand.

Suddenly, the sheet was unceremoniously being tugged off the bed. "Hey, naked guy here!" Chris dove after it and held on for dear life as he shot an affronted glance toward the pushy nurse. "Gimme that!" he called out as he draped the white sheet more securely over his groin.

"At-a-boy, I knew that move would wake ya." The nurse crossed her arms in front of her chest and began to tap her sneaker-clad foot. "What are you fretting about, hon? You ain't got anything that I haven't seen a hundred times." With that, she efficiently tugged a heavy blanket right off the bed, leaving only a thin sheet draped over the prone man.

Chris, who was no fool, knew that he'd lost this round. It looked like it was time to get up before he gave 'Gloria Nightmare' a free showing of the Keller family jewels. Surprisingly, he felt very refreshed, despite this rude disturbance. //I guess having sex and sleeping beside Toby can do wonders for me. Who needs a vacation?//

"You don't seem surprised to see me like this," Chris waved his hand toward his body. Just watching the woman scurrying around putting fresh pillowcases on the pillows was tiring him. She was obviously one of those demonic individuals--a morning person. Two of Chris' ex's had been morning people; he'd divorced them almost before the ink dried on the marriage certificate.

The thought stirred another thought into Chris' conscious mind: Yup, four marriages and countless love affairs, yet he had never said the words "I love you" to anyone but Toby. No one had ever made Chris feel so accepted for his good points and his darker side. Chris knew that Toby was someone who could handle the whole package, since he'd dealt with his own demons and conquered them. Maybe he would help Chris to overcome some of his, too.

As early morning sunlight caressed his face, Chris felt very thankful that Toby was also a night owl--the journals had mentioned how much Toby savored the opportunity to sleep in on the weekends and take the children to pig-out on a late brunch, afterwards. //Could that be any more perfect?// Chris blinked in surprise when the nurse's uniform brushed against his hand, bringing his tired mind back from its little road trip.

By this time, the nurse was placing the blanket into a laundry bag hanging from her cart as she formulated a strategy to get the handsome man out of that bed and out of her way--this was the last room that she had to clean up, and a cup of tea sounded like a great way to reward herself when everything was finished. But she couldn't accomplish that until she had gotten the policeman off of the bed. And he didn't look too inclined to move--with his eyes drooping closed like that, he resembled a housecat settling down for another nap.

Years of experience raising four sons had taught her how to deal with young men who were having trouble getting their ass in gear in the morning--you motivated them to move, pure and simple. "Oh, I knew you were naked, sweetie! Hell, with the door opened like it was, you two provided free entertainment for the whole graveyard shift."

A jaw dropped open in shock as the blue eyes widened. She reached out and patted a long leg, which was hastily shoved under the sheet. "Who needs the Spice channel with you guys on our floor, I ask ya!"

Chris closed his gaping mouth, as he primly draped the sheet over more of his exposed body, and tried to control the childish urge to throw a pillow at that disgustingly cheerful face. From the neatly bobbed hair to the tips of her white sneakers, the woman looked immaculate and full of nervous energy. Her slight midwestern drawl was pleasant to listen to, but Chris was only interested in hearing one voice right now, and it wasn't hers. Chris yawned and stretched his arms, as he tried to work out the kink in his neck.

The nurse's sharp eyes examined his upper body, enjoying the play of muscles as the detective stretched. As she looked, she remembered that Marcie had mentioned that this visitor was yet *another* looker. The afternoon staff were rumored to have drawn straws when the blond honey had been wheeled in. An anxious Doctor Cloutier had ordered them to give him a sponge bath to try to awaken him--chaos soon ensued.

Marcie'd won, but her thorough bathing hadn't helped that delicious looking man regain consciousness, much to her disappointment. Only this man's presence had finally awakened the handsome, eligible lawyer from his sleep.

She hadn't really paid much attention to the buzz when Marcie first spotted this visitor emerging from the elevator, but it looked like the gossip was right again. He was another gorgeous specimen of masculinity. //I wouldn't mind having your shoes under my bed, cutie. And speaking of stuff under the bed--I bet he's gonna be looking for these.// She leaned down and retrieved an item of clothing from the floor--a pair of black silk boxer-shorts. "Yours?" she asked as they dangled in her hand.

"Yup," Chris smiled gratefully when his boxers were handed to him. He was even more grateful when the nurse turned, so that he could hastily don the underwear. With a groan, he leaned over to retrieve his pants, which were lying in a tangled heap on the floor. "Um, thanks for letting me stay here. I thought it was just a matter of time till someone booted me out on my ass."

The nurse took that statement as an invitation to turn back around. She sighed in regret when she noticed that the sculpted chest was covered with a blue dress-shirt that was being hastily buttoned. "No problem, hon. Unlike some people, I'm here for the patients. Even a blind man could see that Mr. Beecher needed you here if he was going to get a decent night's sleep."

A warm brown eye winked, "So, you just provided the *medicine* to that poor, dear man. And that's what will go in my report if anyone questions this." She reached over and began to pull the case off of a pillow.

Out of sorts, Chris rose to his feet and staggered over to the chair. He dragged the chair away from the bed to give the nurse room to work before he collapsed into it. His bare feet felt cold from their brief contact with the tiled floor. //No wonder they've got so many rugs in this room. That floor feels as cold as an ice rink.//

The nurse saw the man bend his legs and place his feet on the seat of the chair. //That'll wake you up.// She retrieved a sock, which was hanging from a lampshade. The other was on the floor beside the night table. //Hmm. I suspect that someone got undressed rather hastily last night.//

"Here ya go, hon." Then she turned around to toss the soiled sheet onto her cart. The detective had managed to find his shoes all by himself and was slipping them into his feet. She grabbed a fluffy blanket off the pile and spread it over the bed as she continued to watch this intriguing young man.

When Chris looked up and noticed that she was facing him, he tried to force his tired face into a friendly smile. "This hospital is pretty *liberal*."

The nurse who was tucking in a clean blanket, began to chuckle as she continued to work. "Huh. This place will overlook just about anything when the family is as obscenely rich as the Beechers are, hon." She patted the blanket into place and smiled in satisfaction at the neatly made bed, all ready for occupancy.

"I ran the AIDS unit over in San Fran. We got pretty used to having visitors staying over to look after loved ones, so this wasn't that much different from what I encountered there." She smiled reassuringly at Chris as she gathered up the rest of the soiled linens and placed them on the cart.

She was the reason that he had gotten to spend the night with Toby, Chris was sure of that. Sure, the money may have helped, but he was sure that none of the staff would ever question this nurse when she took a stand. "Thank you, ma'am." Not eloquent, but it was heartfelt and sincere.

The nurse, whose id had the name E. Martin, R.N. printed on it, just flashed the detective a good-natured grin. "Yeah, sure, ya-betcha. Sometimes love is the *best* medicine. Even a blind man could see that you adore that guy--of course, the free show also made it kind of obvious how you felt about him."

Chris felt his cheeks heating up under that knowing gaze. //And I was worried about the kids. How could I have forgotten about the door!// A memory of Toby's sky blue eyes, glazed with desire, flashed through his mind. //Oh, yeah. Right.// Toby could tempt a statue when he looked like that--when passion makes his cheeks flush with color and his eyes glow like blue diamonds. Chris was certainly not made of rock--his willing flesh had surrendered to the appeal in those eyes before his brain had even made a decision.

Chris shifted in the seat as he studied the woman, and searched his memory looking for her face. //That's it--"Titanic"!//

"Um, did anyone ever mention that you look like--"

"Kathy Bates?" a rueful smile graced the round face. "It's been mentioned a few...hundred times. It makes some of the patients a little nervous at first, but they get over it." She grabbed the edge of the cart and began to wheel it toward the door. It had been a nice change of pace to catch a glimpse of that gorgeous bod. Watching the guy try to stay awake was also highly entertaining, but there was work to get done. "Doctor Cloutier--resident boy genius--otherwise known as *The Reverend*, requested your presence in his office at your earliest convenience."

Chris tilted his head and canted his eyebrow as he tried to figure out why Toby's doctor needed to speak to him. Was Toby all right, he wondered.

The nurse anticipated his question before the words could emerge from his lips. "He's fine, don't fret. I think the doc just got a might miffed when he walked in here this morning and found you both tangled together and naked as the day you were born--the boy genius is known for being a bit of a prude."

"Oh, wonderful." Now he was going to be subjected to a lecture by some Doogie-Howser-wanna-be, all before he'd had one drop of coffee to fortify him. Sometimes it just didn't pay to get out of bed, especially when it was Toby's bed.

"There's another policeman who's been hanging around in the hallway, waiting for you." The brunette didn't look inclined to move--he needed more motivation. "He's got coffee."

Chris' sleepy eyes snapped open. The magic word, he'd heard the magic word. Chris sniffed the air, sure that he could smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from here. "Thanks!" he called out as he wandered out the door on autopilot.

When he spotted Sean sitting in a chair, holding out a large cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee for him, he groaned in ecstasy. He grabbed the mug and savagely tore off the plastic cover. "Ahhh, coffee." As he swallowed the hot beverage, his whole body seemed to warm up. This stuff is nectar from the gods, Chris decided, as he gulped down another mouthful. Sean handed him a croissant, and earned eternal gratitude.

Chris took a bite of the flaky pastry, and sighed. "Did I ever mention that I love you?"

"Me or the coffee?" Sean asked as he wiped his hand on a napkin.

"The coffee, of course." As Chris stuffed a piece of the chocolate- chip croissant, his favorite breakfast, into his mouth he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch the previous evening. The thought of food had nauseated him while Toby slept beside him on the bed, wrestling with the memories that haunted his dreams. Then, when he woke up, Chris had been too excited to think of feasting on anything but Toby's silky skin.

Chris glanced over at his partner, who had a box full of croissants sitting beside him. "How did you know I needed this?"

"People in love don't think about food when their soul-mate needs them--until they're better, food isn't a priority." Sean smiled proudly when his partner retrieved another pastry from the box. Chris had always been there for him, and it felt kind of nice to provide some support for his very self-sufficient friend. "As for the coffee...come on Chris. You aren't an attractive sight in the morning- -I wouldn't subject Toby to that. He was injured."

Chris just frowned at Sean. That remark wasn't worthy of a reply, and Chris was still too groggy to think of one. Collapsing against the back of this comfortable chair seemed like such a better idea. Chris stretched his legs out in front of him and contentedly sipped his coffee.

"You got LAID!" Sean's eyes were sizing Chris up: the crumpled clothes, the relaxed pose, the contented look in the sleepy eyes and that silly grin that kept appearing on Chris' face. "Of all the places to jump his bones, you pick a HOSPITAL?" Chris squirmed in the seat and began to study the design on the cup, thus avoiding making eye contact with his suspicious partner.

"You astound me sometimes, Chris. Only you could manage to get some nookie going with doctors and nurses surrounding you--sometimes I think you just love a challenge." Sean's eyes filled with curiosity as he glanced around the corridor speculatively. "What'd you do, lure him into a broom closet?"

Chris snorted as he pictured Toby shoved up against some shelves while Chris thrust into his welcoming body. Hmm, something to keep in mind, Chris decided. "Na. I wasn't that creative. We just got a little frisky in his room."

Sean settled back into his chair and absently nabbed a pastry and began to nibble on it. There was a story here, and he wanted to give his partner the chance to tell it, and to gloat. Chris was actually a very sensitive man who hid his tender heart and insecurities behind a smug smile and a strut. Sean had become very protective toward Chris--who was more than a partner or a friend--he was family. After having met and sized-up Beecher, he felt that his friend had made a good choice; Toby would make Chris happy, Sean was sure of that.

Sean was also sure that some gloating was in order. Chris deserved the opportunity to brag and gush about this relationship to someone that he trusted; Sean intended to be available when he felt comfortable enough to go into details-- which would probably not occur for a few days. Chris had been alone a long time, and it looked like he would finally be getting everything that he deserved-- the love, the family and the acceptance of his special qualities and abilities all wrapped up in a blond package, and Sean felt happy for him.

Chris suddenly began to play with the discarded cover, which was lying on a table beside his chair. He shoved a piece of the plastic back and watched it bounce into place as he considered what to tell his partner. "He woke up from a dream and was pretty freaked out by it. By the time I got him calmed down and communicating, he needed me close."

Chris glanced up into Murphy's warm brown eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "He needed the affirmation that he was alive and that I was all right, too. So, we got naked and fooled around. Nothing fancy; but it was in-fucking-credible."

Sean wouldn't press for details, Chris knew that. That was one of the wonderful qualities that Sean possessed--he never pried into domains that were none of his business. His concern was that his partner was happy and content, end of story.

"It always is, when you're in love." Sean thought of his wife, a woman that still made his palms sweat even after all these years together.

"So, what are you doing here? I thought that you and Diane would be taking a little vacation for a few days."

"Yeah, me too. Until Glynn called." Technically, this wasn't their case anymore. Their job was to write up profiles based on the available evidence. Those profiles wouldn't be needed in this case, so it should have bounced back to the homicide division, to close it--Chris knew that. "Glynn cut a deal with the chief, and is letting us stay with this one up until the end. Judge Beecher took a liking to us and requested that we stay on the case."

"I wonder if that was before or after he discovered me wrapped around his son like a python."

Sean choked on a sip of his coffee when he heard that remark. He hastily placed his cup on a table while he coughed and wiped the tears forming in his eyes. He managed to wheeze out, "In...bed?" This sounded interesting.

"Um, yeah." Chris grimaced as he remembered Angus' comments. "I'd like to emphasize that I was fully clothed *that* time." Chris glanced over at his partner and saw an eyebrow cant--Sean wanted to know more."

"He woke up and sort of persuaded me to get into bed with him--not that I needed much persuading, you understand." Chris took another sip of coffee as he recalled the look. "I was trying to be good--but he was kind of insistent about it. I fell asleep, and then the next thing I knew, we were surrounded by Beechers of all shapes and sizes. It was like some fucked up episode of the Waltons."

Sean threw back his head and laughed hysterically as he pictured this scene. Chris just smiled and continued to sip the coffee. When Sean was calm enough to force out the words, he gasped out, "Glynn told me the judge called him this morning to make sure we were still on the case. Was that before or after the python incident?"

"After." Chris smiled down into the coffee as he realized something that made his heart feel lighter. "I guess he approves of me, if he still wants us on this case."

Sean nodded his head in agreement. "Good for you. Now you've got relatives in high places, and Howell may stop giving us so much grief."

"When money talks, the politician's resolve always balks." Chris tossed the empty cup into a wastebasket; it hit the rim and bounced in. "I bet the judge called his new buddy, Devlin, and he smoothed the waters for all this."

"No doubt." Sean tapped his partner's arm and pointed to a rolled up newspaper, which was sitting by the box of pastry. "The story has been in all the papers--front page stuff. Some papers also got hold of the list of names--someone at the precinct must have leaked it." Both men exchanged a speaking glance. It wasn't a group of people that either man suspected; it was one self-centered cow, who'd almost gotten Toby and Sean killed yesterday--Claire Howell. Chris longed to say a few things to her when he finally saw her again.

Sean pointed to the box, but Chris grimaced; he was full. Sean closed the cover on the box and placed it on his lap. His sons would wolf down the rest of these pastries when he took them home--a father of twins never let food go to waste. "Schillinger's been on the news, trying to spin this thing. By the time he's done, he'll probably have bullshitted the voters into thinking that he's a misunderstood philanthropist."

Chris guffawed when he heard the cynical remark. Sadly, it was probably true. Scum like Schillinger, who knew how to manipulate the press, could get away with just about anything. "He's a fuckin' racist, pure and simple. He'll have a tough time white-washing that-- pun intended."

Chris didn't bother to look at the paper; he'd heard enough to know what was going on. The journalists were probably clamoring to get at Toby; that's why the doc had pressed for the early morning tests. The sooner he was found to be all right, the sooner the hospital could release him and cut back on their extra security forces guarding his privacy during his convalescence.

"Vern's been around, trying to see Robson. They won't let him in of course; they're afraid he'll *accidentally* pull some wires out of the wall--he's got issues with Robson over the list, which he claims is bogus. He was so pissed that he looked capable of ripping that guy's intestines out through his nostrils."

Chris had no trouble imagining Vern doing that. "So, Robson is still alive and breathing?" Chris asked, hopeful. He wanted that man to live to face the wrath of Schillinger and everyone else that he'd screwed.

"Yup, him and Barlog are both awake and lucid. Barlog just needed stitches, and he's as fit as a fiddle. I was ordered to take a statement from that lit' bastard, and I thought you'd want in on it." Sean rose to his feet and threw away his empty coffee cup." That's why I swung by. Did Toby know anything?"

Chris eased himself to his feet as his partner pointed toward a corridor, which they began to walk down. Neither man was in any hurry to question the painter. "He told me a few things," Chris drawled out.

Chris filled his partner in as they slowly walked along the hallways, toward the painter's hospital room. As Sean heard about what had occurred, he started to regret the fact that he'd eaten the pastry.

"Hey, Liam," Sean smiled at the officer guarding the door as he and his partner walked by.

"Hey yourself, Murph." The officer turned to study Chris, curious and knowing. Suddenly, Chris was sure that his exploits with Beecher had made their way through the hospital grapevine to this receptive audience. "How's it hanging, Keller?"

Keller smirked wickedly and winked, "Big and bad, Liam." Chris looked toward the closed door as he asked, "Does the *great artist* have any visitors? We really need to have a chat with the guy, alone."

The officer shifted in his seat and looked down at the floor, uncomfortable with the news that he had to impart. "He's only had *two* visitors--can you believe that? One was some hulking guy with tattoos all over his skin--what a walking freak show; the other one was his butler--attitude on wheels. He's all alone right now." The officer chuckled derisively. "Christ, I hope that if I ever come that close to dying, that more of my friends show up to shoot the shit."

Chris' shoulders stiffened. It was tempting to feel sorry for this man, who didn't seem to inspire any loyalty in anyone, but this man had almost hurt Toby. Even inadvertently, he had supplied the weapon and the motive to a Neanderthal that almost carried out his plan. Whether that's what he intended or if he really was that naïve was yet to be determined. Chris intended to find out and to score some points--for Toby's sake, if nothing else.

Chris reached into his pocket and turned on his tape player before he shoved the door opened; it crashed opened with a loud thud.

Pale eyes opened but the man didn't look surprised to see the detectives. He actually looked relieved. "So, have you come to arrest me, officers?" he whispered as the men sank into the chairs placed around his bed--ready for visitors who would never make an appearance.

"No!" Sean pulled out his notebook and turned to a new page. "How's your forehead doing? We heard that you took a swan dive into the side of your tub."

Chris bit his lip to stifle his laughter when he heard that remark. //Yeah, that's right. Sean's probably pissed too; Robson got to conk him one because *pretty boy* here let him into the secured building.//

Ronnie smiled as he raised his hand and touched the bandage covering the top of his head. "Yeah, I'm a real klutz when I'm intoxicated." He lowered his hand and began to trace the pattern on the sheet. "And I have been very intoxicated the last few days. Very."

"Trying to drown your sorrows?" Chris asked.

"Trying--not succeeding." Ronnie shook his head wearily, while he pondered the past few days of hell on earth. "There isn't enough snort or booze in the world to succeed in doing that."

Sean wanted to get this over with. He didn't feel comfortable interrogating a man in his hospital bed, even if he is a grade-A jerk. "We just came here to have another little talk with you. Are you up for it?" Ronnie sighed and sat up. He took a deep breath and turned to fully face the detectives. "I guess I should just spit this out before I lose my nerve again. I've been drinking to drown out the guilt, cause I...killed someone a few nights ago." The words came out in a rush and both detectives blinked in astonishment as they tried to process this abrupt confession.

Chris bit his lip as he swallowed the remark that was forming. PC had never been his forte, but the guy was wounded, so Chris would take it easy on him--for now. It amused him that this posturing boy, with his superior, know-it-all attitude was completely in the dark about what had occurred right across the hall. It was almost laughable, in a sick sort of way. But since Toby had been hurt by this man's stupidity, Chris wasn't in a laughing mood.

Ronnie cleared his throat before he blurted out his next statement. "I shot *someone*--thinking it was Toby." Ronnie momentarily closed his eyes in pain and opened them again to gage the reactions to his confession.

Both detectives didn't look shocked by his confession Their faces were like stone statues--completely unanimated. Ronnie's dramatic soul was disappointed; during his drunken stupors, he'd imagined this confession to be much more shocking and emotional--real life never lived up to his artistic interpretations. //Tough crowd.//

"Using your father's gun." The statement wasn't a question. Sean knew what had happened and he wanted to move things along.

"Uh-huh," Ronnie's lips twisted into a sneer. "My dad threatened to shoot my faggot ass with that gun about once a week while I was growing up. It seemed like kismet that I should use it to fuck up my life. I'd have used it to end my miserable life yesterday, but I couldn't find the damn thing."

Sean wrote all this furiously into his notebook while Chris just sat back in the chair, watching the artist. Sean studied his partner's face when he was finished getting it all down. //Is he picturing this man with Toby? Is he just listening, processing the things the man is sharing with us?// Sean wasn't sure, but a quiet Chris always made him nervous.

"Do you remember pulling the trigger and killing this man?" Sean asked. Robson had confessed to the crime, but they had to tie up any loose ends. He wasn't a reliable source of information--juries didn't put much stock in the ramblings of psychotic killers.

"NO!" Ronnie rolled his eyes. //These flatfoots are complete simpletons. I almost hate to confess--with them on this case, I was safe from being caught. My biggest enemy is myself, as usual.// "I got tanked and passed out. But the gun was mine and it's gone. Who else could've done it, the Tooth Fairy?"

"No, not the Tooth Fairy--we've got her safely locked up for breaking and entering. Try again." Chris' demeanor was very unnerving as he leaned against the back of his chair and sneered. He was playing with the artist, trying to lead him into supplying them with more information.

But Chris' attitude wasn't working, Sean concluded as he watched Barlog's reactions. Ronnie just glared at him and tilted his chin out, defiantly. //It's a pissing contest, no doubt about it. And this guy doesn't even know about Chris and Toby...yet.// Sean was sure that Chris was going to share that little tidbit when the time was right. This man had hurt Toby on many levels and Sean was sure that Chris wanted to score some points on Toby's behalf.

Sean hid his grin behind his notebook as he considered his next question. Chris had been convinced that this jealous man had attempted to kill Toby, but now they knew that this theory was wrong. Robson had done the shooting, while Ronnie slept off the booze. But, they needed Toby's information confirmed or it was all hearsay. There weren't any prints on that gun, and Robson could always claim that he'd been confused and hadn't really shot anyone. Then it would just be Toby's word against his--which wasn't a strong case. A good defense attorney could keep Toby from ever making it to the stand; they needed more.

Sean glanced over toward his partner and Chris raised an eyebrow-- Sean was still leading this investigation, for now. "Did you tell anyone where the gun was hidden?" Sean watched the young man frown as he tried to recall the last few days. He'd drunk so much his brain is probably pickled, Sean concluded as the man's eyes widened in comprehension.

"Yeah, I showed it to Jimbo." Ronnie looked over at Murphy. "He was pissed about his boss sniffing around Toby--not that the ol' fossil stood a chance with me in the picture." White teeth flashed in a sad smile as Ronnie considered that situation. "Toby'd have to be blind and stoned to choose anyone else over me."

Chris hid a smug smile behind his hand as Murphy shot him a warning glance. There wasn't any need for it. The kid was talking and Chris had no intentions of interrupting.

Ronnie sniffed derisively before he continued. "Where was I--oh, yeah. He was raving about shooting his boss. I showed him the gun and told him about my plan to kill Beecher if he married that walking garbage disposal."

Ronnie shrugged his shoulders. "He kept urging me to do it, but no one tells me what to do anymore--I worked too damn hard to make it to a position where I don't have to take any orders from anyone, especially low-life's like him."

//Gees, even when he's confessing to a murder this guy is still giving us 'tude. What a loser.// Sean almost wished this man was more involved, so that he could personally whip out his cuffs and drag the arrogant bastard out of that bed. He looked over to his partner and his earlier amusement had subsided. //Chris will wipe your nose on the floor, buddy, for even *considering* hurting his Toby. Then we'll see who thinks his shit don't stink.//

"So, you're friends with James Robson? You didn't mention that in our previous discussion."

Ronnie's smile was full of condescension. "You didn't *ask*. And I didn't feel the need to advertise the fact that I was slumming it." Ronnie fixed the blanket, which had begun to slide to the floor. He wanted his confession to be neat and dramatic, just the way he had pictured it. Maybe he would paint this scene before he went off to prison, as a closure to this whole farce. "We went to the track together. For a low-level politician, Jimbo had lots of cash to play with. He usually lost quite a bit; the man couldn't recognize a winner if it bit him on the ass."

"How could you have committed the murder if you were at the television studio?"

Ronnie rolled his eyes in exasperation. He decided to explain the facts to these simpletons in slow, short sentences so that even they would understand. "The interview was *taped*. When it was over, Robson and I went to the track. I won, but he lost a bundle. Then we came back and got loaded on booze and cocaine. That's when I decided to just get it over with. Shoot Toby and put him out of his misery; he was supposed to be at his place, waiting to talk with me."

"Why didn't you just use your key that Beecher gave you, and walk right into there and finish him off? Too easy?"

Ronnie frowned as he recognized the barb that the quiet detective with the unfriendly attitude had just hurled at him. "I would've, if I could find the key. It's been missing for weeks."

Sean nodded his head as he wrote everything into his notebook. "Beecher didn't stay to have that talk because his friend needed a place to stay. He needed a quiet place to think everything over, so he left his friend Nik alone in the apartment."

"Was that his name? Was he trying to get into Toby's pants, too?"

Sean's lips pursed in disapproval. The young man didn't even seem to care that an innocent man was dead. He was still fixated on Toby and himself. "No, he was just a friend. Beecher was pretty broken up by his murder."

Ronnie nodded his head sagely. "Toby is a very sensitive man--that's why he needs someone like me to protect him from himself." Ronnie frowned as he realized the oxymoron that he'd just stated; a man who'd plotted to kill him couldn't protect Toby.

"I almost died of shock when we heard that he was alive. Vern thought it was bullshit at first, until Jimbo called the cops. Then, he even ran over there and personally confirmed it for us. Later, Vern took off and Rob hung around to use my john. We were both going to walk over there, but my fall ended that visit."

Sean was trying to hide his satisfied smile, and he could see Chris was struggling to hide his relief. They'd had everything confirmed; Barlog would be the key witness against Robson when that shit was brought to trial, not Toby. Now it was time to let this idiot off the hook, since he was technically innocent.

"Robson was eager to confirm it all right." Sean flicked the notebook back to a page full of his messy scrawl. "He was the one who did the shooting, while you were passed out on the couch. He bragged about it to Beecher."

Ronnie stared at the strange man, as his tired mind tried to comprehend the detective's message. "Robson? Shit, he's the shooter? Are you *sure*?" Anxious eyes turned toward Sean, the more sympathetic officer.

He needed to know; images of his crime had been haunting him, making his life one big nightmare. Despite his nonchalant attitude, the idea of killing Toby made him sick. It confirmed his father's opinion of him as another lowlife, like his old man had been. Ronnie had never really intended to kill anyone, except maybe himself.

Live hard, die young and beautiful; it had been his goal until he met Toby, who seemed to recognize some potential in his previously worthless existence. Making Toby's crystal blue eyes shine with approval and pride had become his new goal--along with plunging his cock in that delectable ass.

That night, he'd just been ranting, with Robson as an eager audience. The idea of Toby not being in his life had left a hole that booze and drugs couldn't blot out. Toby had come to mean a lot to him, and not just because the guy was completely fuckable.

"Yeah, he confessed it to Beecher before he almost killed him, again." Sean checked through the notes that he had just written from his little discussion with Chris. "Robson stole the gun and then left it in the Beecher's clock, to pin the crime on you. When he found out that Beecher was alive, he went over there and almost finished the job, but Beecher was much more resourceful than he anticipated. Now Robson's in here, fighting for his life. Beecher's here too, but he's getting sent home today."

The pale eyes closed momentarily as a mobile mouth trembled with emotion. When the eyes opened, they were moist with unshed tears. "I really am innocent?" the young man whispered in a voice that trembled with emotion.

//To hell with political correctness.// "Oh, you're still technically an unwilling accessory; you assisted Robson with the crime by supplying him with access to the building and a weapon. It'll be up to a jury to determine your punishment for being a jealous prick and getting your head stuck up your ass--so to speak." Sean gave his partner a dirty look, but Chris chose to ignore it. He was much too busy sizing up the man lying on the bed.

Chris had to admit that the artist was handsome. A bit on the slim side, but the dark hair with the pale eyes made the man's face striking. Chris could understand why Toby had let the man get intimate with him.

Those pale eyes were overflowing with concern as the man asked, "How's Toby doing? Is he here with you?" The pale eyes glanced toward the door that the officer had thoughtfully closed.

Sean lifted his gaze from his pad and glanced over toward his partner. The midnight blue eyes were glowing with indignation. It was time for him to speak up and ease the tension before Chris said something he'd regret later. "Beecher will probably be stopping by later. Right now he's tied up with tests."

Tears began to slide down Ronnie's face as he heard the news. Relief washed through his body in waves. It felt so good just to feel clean again. And the best news was that Toby was still alive and close by. He hadn't come to visit because he was hurt, and that made a pain that Ronnie refused to acknowledge melt away. "That's great!" Ronnie sniffled as he adjusted the pillow into a more comfortable position behind his back.

Crying in front of others wasn't usually acceptable for the artist, but the emotions just couldn't be stopped. Besides, these two men were his social inferiors; no one of any importance would ever hear about his loss of control. If they did tell tales, Ronnie would enjoy using his connections to make their life hell. //Especially that tall one. He's been giving me attitude since he walked in here. Jealous or something, cop?//

"No, it's not *great*. A man is dead, even if it wasn't the intended victim." Sean's voice was stern as he tapped his pencil on the pad. "Did Robson have anything to do with your accident? He said that he did."

Ronnie's eyes widened as he considered this information. "He was in the bathroom when I walked in, sitting on the john. I slid on the water that he'd accidentally spilled over the tiles--it made them as slippery as hell. I wasn't too steady as it was, but when you mix alcohol and wet tile together--you get an accident. I might've broken my neck, thanks to him."

"You wanted to break it, Barlog." Chris never could stand posturing and bullshit. This man was far from an innocent victim, and Chris didn't intend to apologize for being abrasive to him. It might not be pc, but tact had never been Chris' strong suit. "You were pissed as hell that Toby turned you down, yet again. And you allowed that piece of shit to have access to the gun and your spare key, so you're guilty of stupidity, if nothing else."

Ronnie raised his eyebrows as he studied the handsome detective who had his long legs stretched out in front of him, giving Ronnie a clear view of his crotch. //Nice package, but I don't settle for the bargain bin.//

"If you'd ever been with Toby, you'd know why I felt like shit and wanted to be dead. He's a tiger in bed--completely insatiable. I wanted to drown in the booze when I thought he was gone. Speaking of debauchery, you look like you just crawled out of someone's bed." Ronnie's lip curled in distaste as he frowned at the wrinkled shirt and unshaved face." Police dress codes are very lax. Ever heard of a comb?"

Chris' lips curved into a smirk as he rose to his feet with his typical fluid grace. He turned off the recorder; he didn't want anyone overhearing this part of the conversation.

Sean also rose and flipped the notebook closed. As he slid it and the pencil into his pocket, he stepped back to get a better angle. Chris had that hungry wolf glint in his eyes. Sean knew that he was about to take a bite out of Barlog, now that they were finished here. //This should be fun.// Sean turned to watch the young man; he didn't want to miss anything.

Chris sauntered over to the bed and tilted his head as he sensually traced a hand down Ronnie's arm. Like a cat playing with the helpless mouse, Chris stroked Ronnie's skin and smiled in satisfaction when the man shivered with excitement. "As a matter of fact, I did just crawl out of someone's bed. It was someone we both know; care to guess who that would be?"

Ronnie leaned closer toward the handsome face; this man wasn't Toby, but he did have an animalistic charm that made him easy on the eye. "In a hospital? You're a naughty boy."

Ronnie glanced over toward the other detective, speculatively. The guy was smirking and holding a box of donuts. //O-kay; wonder what they use those for? It certainly would explain why cops love donuts so much.// He licked his lips and looked into the amused blue eyes. "I didn't think your *partner* was the type to do that kind of thing."

Chris' dimples flashed as he rubbed his hand down Ronnie's flushed cheek. "Oh, it wasn't *him*." Chris leaned closer to Ronnie and breathed in his ear, "You're right; Toby is a tiger in bed. My brain is still a little scrambled from the 'blowjob supreme' that he gave me. Thanks for teaching him that, Ron-nie." Chris kissed Barlog's cheek before he rose and sauntered toward the door, toward a gleeful Sean.

He glanced over his shoulder toward Barlog, whose features were still frozen in shock. "And he wasn't blind or stoned. Later," he called out as the detectives walked out the door.

Chris gracefully skirted by a gurney as he glanced down at his wristwatch. "Three hours. Toby's gonna think I took a trip over the fucking rainbow; it took me so fucking long." Traffic was always a bitch in the city, but Chris was starting to wonder if all the drivers were conspiring to be even bigger assholes just to keep him away from Toby--yesterday and now this morning.

The report on this case had been handed in, and Sean was on his way home to his family. Chris was officially listed as being on his vacation time; Glynn had been very supportive of Chris' need for a break--the man always looked after his team's need. That's what made his unit so successful. It was a burden lifted off of Chris' shoulders, and suddenly he felt lighter.

//It would be nice to take Tobe and the kids on a trip to California to see mom and dad.// When Chris had called her from the station, his mother hadn't been surprised by his news about Toby--the Keller grapevine had been active; Chris' sister had filled her in on most of his news the day before.

As usual, his family was supportive of his decision; his mother was practically in tears when she heard about the three children--Chris could foresee major fussing and spoiling was in store for the Beecher tykes by a woman who was dying to have more grandchildren to praise and love. His dad hadn't said much, but his attentiveness to the discussion meant a lot to Chris--his father had always said more with silence than many people said with long lectures.

When Chris entered the hospital room, he stopped short. Someone was pacing impatiently, but it wasn't Toby. A stylishly dressed woman, wearing a turquoise sundress and a white hat whipped around to study him. It didn't take a genius to see that this woman was wealthy: her nails were manicured, the purse and the shoes were expensive looking and the brim of the hat matched the pattern of her dress. The only thing spoiling this picture perfect ensemble was the frown marring the well-shaped lips.

"Civilized people knock before they barge into a room," the woman stated as she studied the detective, "and startle the occupants." With a disdainful sniff, she took in the nameless jeans, the button- down white shirt, and the irreverent 'Scooby Doo' tie before she turned and sank gracefully onto a chair.

The man had a nice physique, but the clothes and the scuffed loafers told their own story. This was just a working-class stiff and she never bothered to be friendly to people who couldn't do her any favors. It was a lesson reinforced by her mother, who'd taught her daughter to use her lovely face and figure to secure her future among the Manhattan elite. The money she'd acquired hadn't always made her happy, but happiness was fleeting. Financial security and popularity had been her rewards for the little sacrifices that she'd made--not a bad deal. "Are you collecting for something or are you lost? I think the drug rehab clinic is on the second floor."

//Christ, what an attitude!// For some reason, this striking woman reminded him of Victoria Beecher, even though they looked nothing alike. Chris tilted his head and smiled sarcastically at the woman. "Civilized people also greet someone with a hello or a howdy when they meet a new person and insult them, according to Emily Post." If this lady, and he was using the term loosely, was going to try to give him attitude, then she was going to be in for a startling surprise. All Chris wanted right now was to have a little talk with Toby's doctor and to get his baby home.

"The only thing I'm interested in *collecting* is the former occupant of this room, ma'am." Chris glanced around the room, looking for some sign that Toby had been there since he'd left. But the room looked undisturbed. "Where's Toby?"

"I've been here an interminable time--at least a half an hour, and I haven't seen him." The woman reached into her purse and pulled out a long cigarette, and lit it. The no-smoking policy of the hospital seemed to mean nothing to her as she defiantly exhaled a puff of smoke toward the sign posted on the wall. "The nurses mentioned that he was still getting tested. They want to be thorough about it before they release him. Considering the fact that he's a lawyer and could file suit if they tried to rush through his treatment, I don't blame them."

"He has a mild concussion and some bruised ribs," Chris explained through stiff lips. "Do you mind?!" Chris reached out and took the cigarette out of her fingers, stepped on it--crushing it under his foot as he pointed toward the oxygen tanks, sitting beside the bed.

Before the woman could respond, Angus bounced into the room with his usual burst of energy. "Hey, Chris--you're back." Angus couldn't hug the detective, because of the suitcase that he was carrying in his left hand. But his right hand did curl around Chris' shoulder to give him a much less enthusiastic version of his hug, which made Chris sigh in relief.

"I was convinced that the hospital staff had tossed you out on your ass when they found it buck-naked in his bed." Angus kicked the door closed with his foot as he hobbled over to the bed with the heavy case. "I got shang-highed to feed the mutt and to pick up some clean clothes and stuff at his place, since *you* weren't around to play slave."

Angus finally spotted the woman when she cleared her throat and he turned back around--she'd been hidden from his view behind Chris and the door. The detective noticed that when the blond spotted the woman, he frowned unhappily. //Bet she's not going to get a hug. Lucky stiff.// He stepped back to watch the proceedings as he tried to figure out who this arrogant woman was.

Angus placed the small suitcase that he was carrying on the bed, as he rolled his eyes. "He's not dead, Gen." The blue eyes, usually so friendly and gentle, were now cold as they gazed at this unexpected and unwanted visitor. Even Angus' tone sounded different-- exasperated and sarcastic. "So, you and Pete will have to stop planning how to spend Toby's money."

"Gussie, how could you say that to me?" Gen's eyes filled with unshed tears as she fumbled in her purse to retrieve a tissue. "I was devastated when I heard that Toby was dead, just ask Peter. I cried...for hours."

Angus folded his arms and nodded his head. "I'm sure ya did, Genny. The thought of having the kids tearing up your new house, their muddy feet trailing dirt over the new, white carpets must have driven you insane."

Angus had never cared for his sister-in-law. When she had started seeing Toby, she had always treated him nicely; she even brought him little presents to win him over. It'd never worked; even though he was five years younger than his brother, he wasn't stupid. He'd seen Gen for what she was; an opportunistic, money-grubbing slut. Angus still regretted the fact that he hadn't shared his opinions with his brother back then--he'd been young and unsure of his conclusions, and his silence had allowed Gen to worm her way into Toby's life.

"Thank god someone had the brains not to tell the children about his supposed death," Gen murmured as she looked around the room. "Gary is living in a fantasy world as it is--if he'd heard all this, he'd be even more of a mess."

Gen's restless eyes came to rest on the handsome man, who was standing beside Angus, looking shocked. Her voice took on a sexy purr that didn't impress Chris. "So, you're his new fuck-buddy? I hadn't realized that Toby had it in him--it actually makes him even more attractive."

"Back off," Angus called out sharply as he placed a hand on Chris' stiff shoulder to calm him. "I'm not sure what made you *think* you were welcome here, Gen. I certainly could've lived without seeing you."

Gen shrugged dismissively; she was used to dealing with Angus' unfriendly attitude toward her--he had begun to make his bad opinion of her known while she was pregnant with Harry. He'd overheard her private conversation with her girlfriends by the pool; she was confiding in them about her longing to terminate the unwanted pregnancy.

She had never wanted any children--that'd been Toby's dream; having children just made her feel secure, since they were her access to the Beecher fortune and Toby's continued affection. Two children, one of each sex, had been enough for Gen--who always got sick and gained a great deal of weight during pregnancies. Until she lost the weight and was attractive again, she'd always worried that her husband would lose interest in her, like her father had lost interest for her mother after she was born. Her wish to terminate the last pregnancy was just wishful thinking--she never would have done it. Probably.

Angus, the little worm, went to Toby and told him what he'd overheard. That had been the first time that Toby had ever lost his temper with her. He'd kept her a virtual prisoner at the estate during the last trimester. After that, her handsome husband *had* lost interest in her--emotionally and sexually. Gen was surprised to discover that the loss hurt--Toby had been an affectionate and playful lover and Gen discovered that she'd cared about him, after his love was withdrawn.

Gen had tried mending fences by being friendlier with the children, but they always seemed to shy away from her, while they continued to adore their father. It made her feel like an outsider, an unwanted intruder in her own home.

She'd found comfort in the arms of others--a cold comfort. It had started out as a method to make Toby jealous, but he was too busy fussing over the children--who didn't even resemble Gen--to even notice. By that point, he didn't seem to put in any effort in solving his problems with his wife and he never seemed concerned by her frequent absences and lame excuses. Slowly the marriage crumbled, until Toby found a reason to divorce her--the reason was named Peter.

Peter hated children, and he was beautiful, virile and wealthy. He also didn't look or act in any way that reminded Gen of her ex- husband, which made their marriage a delight. Gen's tinted lips thinned as she looked up into the intense blue eyes studying her. //You're what he wants now. And I bet you cook, love books and old movies and adore children, eh?//

"I came to see how my ex-husband was. We've worked very hard to be *friends*, for the children's sake." Gen saw Angus' lip curl in disdain. "I know that you don't believe that, but Toby's opinion was always the only one that I cared about and I don't intend to leave until I've seen him." Gen tossed her pointed chin into the air in defiance as she glared at the two men facing her.

"I'm fine, Gen," a soft voice whispered from the doorway. The nurse, E. Martin, was holding open the door so that she could push the wheelchair into the room, while Toby was resting his head against the back of the chair.

"Toby," Gen called out. Her eyes lit up with animation as she arose from the chair beside the door and kissed her husband's cheek. She frowned when she noticed how clammy the flesh felt under her lips. She looked up at the nurse and snapped, "Can't you get him an aspirin or something? Even I can see that he has a headache."

"Betsy was going to get me one, as soon as you move out of our way." Gen took the hint and stepped away from the chair. The nurse wheeled it over to the bed and assisted her patient onto it. Toby smiled in appreciation as she tucked him into the sheets. That sweet smile had the same effect on the nurse that it had on everyone-- she practically floated out of the room to get him the aspirin.

Angus was the first person to bound over and gently hug his brother. "Hey, Mr. T. I've got *everything* you asked for," Angus pointed toward the suitcase as he released his brother and sat in the chair beside the bed. "Jazz is down at the estate with the kids, so you've got the place to yourself. He thought you'd appreciate the peace and quiet so he went down there to give the parental units a hand with our brats--although, he did mutter something about major *overtime*."

Toby moaned in pain when he heard that dreaded word. In reality, he usually tried to pay Jazz for the extra work and effort he put into the job but the man always refused it. He was only kidding now, but Toby did appreciate the man's thoughtfulness. Toby glanced over toward the detective, who was standing quietly beside the bed.

Toby raised his eyebrow and playfully patted the mattress. Chris felt uncomfortable as he walked over to the bed and sat down beside Toby, in his spot. Toby immediately leaned closer and kissed him-- Chris forgot all about the penetrating eyes that were watching him enviously as Toby plundered his mouth.

When Chris reluctantly released that delectable mouth, Toby was softly panting and his cheeks were flushed with color. Chris couldn't resist tracing his strong jaw and his cute nose with his finger as he whispered, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Toby settled back onto the pillow. "Where'd you go?"

Chris smiled in triumph. His Toby had missed him, and that made his heart sing. "Sean and I had some police work to finish up and then we went by the station to file the report. I also took a shower while I was there and changed up--I figured you'd appreciate that."

Toby sighed in disappointment as he leaned closer to Chris and whispered, "They made me wash up, too. Now you'll have to get me all dirty again, so that I don't smell like a hospital."

Chris' smile grew wolfish as he whispered, "I'm sure I can take care of that problem, Tobe."

Toby continued to stare into the loving eyes for several more seconds, drawing strength from the love reflected there. He turned his head to face his ex-wife, who was still standing awkwardly beside the door, as if she were debating the merits of a quick escape. Toby had been surprised to see her--even after years of marriage, he never could figure out what was going on behind those enigmatic eyes.

Gen was leaning against the wall, swinging her purse nervously in her right hand. The brim of the hat concealed her eyes, but Toby was sure that she was studying the dynamic between him and Chris. She was the mystery he'd never been able to solve--he'd never felt comfortable enough to share his dreams with her and she'd never let him see behind her confident mask, to the real person behind it. Until he'd met Chris, he hadn't realized how shallow his love for her had been.

"Hello, Genny-Penny." Toby held out his hand as he called her by their childhood nickname. Gen rushed over and clasped his hand, which she brought up to her lips and kissed. Toby smiled and asked, "How are things?"

"Fine, fine," Gen stated as she released his hand and removed her hat. "I live to shop and Peter adored that." She smoothed her dark brown hair as she asked, "Are they releasing you?"

"Yup, the MRI's were fine. As soon as I get dressed, I can blow this pop stand."

Gen nodded her head and studied her former husband. He looked happy and relaxed beside his handsome lover. The man was gazing at Toby like he was a buried treasure that he'd discovered and claimed. //Maybe he is a treasure, but he was *mine* first, Mister.//

Gen leaned over and kissed Toby's cheek affectionately and possessively as her eyes dared the man sitting beside him to protest. "I've got places to go and clothes to buy, Toby. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. I'm out of the loop these days."

"And whose fault is that, Gen?" Angus called out as the woman fixed her hat and reached into her pocketbook for her keys.

"Mine," Gen answered as she tossed a final reproachful look over her shoulder, before she walked toward the door. "Toby's, Victoria's, yours." Gen turned around and waved her hand toward her husband dismissively." Give me a call when you're up for it, Toby. Toodles." With that final shot, Gen walked out the door and all of the men immediately relaxed.

"Gee, she really lights up a room," Angus murmured. "When she leaves it."

Toby threw back his head and laughed. Chris and Angus joined in until they were all wiping tears from their eyes.

Chris cleared his throat and made a decision. The brothers needed some time together, where Angus could fuss over his big bro. "Then I'm gonna go get some stuff done while Gussie helps you get spiffy." Chris arose off the bed and kissed his lover on the forehead. "I'll stop by in a half hour, ok?"

Toby looked into the dark blue eyes and nodded his appreciation--he understood what Chris was doing, and Toby appreciated his thoughtfulness. Since his accident, he hadn't really had any time to talk with his brother and reassure him--there were always kids, or the nursing staff around.

"Hey," Angus groused. "How come I'm getting stuck playing his valet?"

Toby winked at his brother. "If Chris got me stripped naked, there's no way in hell I'd let him get any clothes on me, moron."

Chris smiled as he closed the door and almost bumped right into E. Martin, who had an aspirin bottle clutched in her hand.

"Hey, doll. The Rev--I mean, the Doc *still* wants to see you. His office is right down the hall on the left." Betsy winked at Chris, whose brow had furrowed with concern. "He's gonna yell at you, for livening up this dreary place."

//Great. Just what I need. Doogie Howser is gonna lecture me about safe sex.// Chris sighed in exasperation and began to walk down the hallway.

"--the man has bruised ribs and a mild concussion." The doctor was pacing around the small office waving his hand. Chris stared at the silver crucifix in his desk as the man continued his lecture. "Never mind the fact that the door was ajar, allowing the whole floor to hear every moan and g-gasp."

Chris' head whipped around to study the baby-faced doctor. His cheeks were flushed under that beard and he was biting his lip. //Maybe the nurses weren't the only ones who were listening in. Haven't you people ever heard of HBO?//

"Toby seduced ME, doc." Chris stated slowly. "I went along with it because he was a mess and seemed to need me close. It wasn't about the sex, it was about the love."

"Yes, I heard him." The doctor studied his manicured nails as the detective gasped. "I was ready to toss you out of here, but I accidentally overheard that request. I recognized the need in his voice--the distress."

//You voyeur--accident my Aunt Franny.// "Should we take it easy, when he gets home? I had intended to get him naked and make him scream for mercy--in that order. I thought that would help him forget his name, never mind the last few days." Chris rubbed a finger over the seam in his jeans as he pondered his question. "But I won't do anything that might hurt him. I love 'im, ya know?"

The doctor smiled and patted Chris' shoulder affectionately. "Oh, the whole staff knows that." He walked over to his chair and sank into it before he answered Chris' question.

"I would avoid strenuous activity for at least another day; his equilibrium is still pretty sensitive at this point, even with the drugs." The doctor picked up a fountain pen and pointed it at the detective. "You can still hold him and keep things gentle."

Chris groaned, "Gee, thanks," as he rose from the chair; the half hour was almost up and he was anxious to see Toby again. "When I get my hands on Toby, it's pretty tough to hold back, doc."

"If you love him, you'll control your libido for another day. Beware the sins of the flesh, Detective Keller." The doctor opened a file and began to sign the release form and hand it to Chris. "Give that to Mrs. Martin. Once Tobias signs it, he's all yours."

"Thanks, Doctor How--Cloutier." Chris shook the man's hand and hoped he didn't catch the slip up. The twinkle in the eyes watching him told Chris that he had heard it and knew exactly what Chris had almost said.

//Ooops.//

Chris stopped short when he saw the 'great artist' emerging from Toby's room. When their eyes met, the young man immediately looked down at the floor.

//When will you take a hint?// Chris could feel his hands shaking with suppressed anger. //If this asshole got Toby worked up again, I'll kill him myself.//

Chris knew that a visit from this man was inevitable, but he'd hoped the confrontation would occur once Toby had some time to recover. As Chris continued to walk down the hall, he suddenly felt like Gary Cooper--this was going to be his shootout, using acerbic comments instead of bullets.

When Chris was directly in front of the artist's wheelchair, he leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair.

Barlog's head shot up, defiance made the pale eyes glow as he stared into the midnight blue ones so close to his own. Before Chris could comment, Ronnie blurted out. "You were right. He's yours."

Chris actually found himself dumbfounded by the abrupt admission--the words were literally frozen on his tongue. The injured man looked defeated, and Chris was sure that it wasn't just because of his injuries. Toby must have laid down the law, and Ronnie wasn't too happy about it.

"You should've believed me. It would've saved you some trouble." Chris looked down at this man--his rival. But he didn't feel victorious, which surprised him. He frowned as he analyzed his emotions and realized that some pity was mixed into them. Being alone, virtually friendless and losing the man of your dreams would be a lousy day for anyone.

The artist nodded as he began to play with the IV attached to his arm. "I *had* to talk to Toby--to clear the air." Ronnie glared up at the detective, who was still looming over him like a predator. "I had to see for myself if he was all right. I know that you think I'm a selfish prick, but I really didn't go in there to confront him about you. I just wanted to see how he looked and to apologize for my stupidity the last few months."

Chris released his grip on the handles as he straightened up. "So, did you find out what you needed to know?"

Ronnie nodded. "He didn't need to say a word--his eyes told me the whole story." Ronnie looked Chris over from the bottom of his pants to the top of his dark hair--assessing him. "I hope you realize how lucky you are. He's one in a million."

Chris didn't bother to reply. The remark didn't seem to need one. Ronnie pushed a button on the chair and it began to slowly roll away. But as he passed Chris, a cocky smile lit up the pale features as he smiled gamely at Chris. "Besides, you don't strike me as the brightest bulb on the lamp--you're bound to fuck it up, eventually. And I'll be waiting right next door, ready to comfort Toby in his hour of need."

Chris' eyes widened in shock as the man continued to wheel down the hallway. //The nerve of that asshole.//

Chris was tempted to pursue the little shit and tell him off. That wasn't the answer to this situation--intellectually. Chris knew that. Barlog was hurt and he needed to score points; considering what Chris had, he wouldn't begrudge the man this small verbal victory. He had Toby--that made him the ultimate winner of that confrontation.

Ronnie was right--this relationship would take work and patience, and Chris was bound to fuck up. But Chris intended to put in the effort-- he was willing to do anything it took to keep Toby's love.

Chris also knew that he didn't want Toby to see his anger. He sucked in a deep breath before he pushed the door opened. The two men were sitting on the bed waiting for him to take Toby home. Chris felt his heart skip when those sky blue eyes lit with joy when Toby spotted him at the door.

"We're almost there, baby. I just need to run in, pick up a few things and feed my fish. Then we can drive over to your place."

//Baby, eh? I could get used to that.//

Toby sighed in pure pleasure as he pushed his glasses back into position. Angus was on his way back to Long Island to escape the ninety degree heat; he'd hugged them both before he hopped into his convertible and headed toward the nearest car wash; Toby had handed him twenty bucks to end his whining about streaked windows and dog hair on the upholstery. It had been the best investment he'd made in weeks, especially since it ensured that he would finally be alone with Chris without his little brother tagging along playing chaperone.

Toby had an agenda, and it definitely included lube and getting Chris naked. Chris had been a perfect gentleman toward him all day, and it was driving Toby bananas. He longed to have the detective close--as close as he could get. He was still a virgin, despite Ronnie's many attempts to persuade and seduce him. As Toby settled into the seat, he was convinced that his decision was right; he wanted Chris to be the first man--the only man, to be inside him.

//Another dependency, Toby? Gloria's going to go ape-shit when she hears what you've been up to.// Toby still felt shattered by his experience with Robson, nothing like that had ever happened to him. The whole time Chris' name and image had sustained him, helped him to find the courage to stay in control of his emotions and not let the crazed man take charge. Chris was his savior--literally. Toby had felt so safe when he awoke cradled in his man's arms. He wanted to be as close to Chris as he could get, to absorb some of his strength into his own body and bask in this man's love. Love was the key word here; Toby knew that the love would help to heal him, so that he'd be ready to resume his life as a father and a campaign manager.

//A few days of naked therapy with Chris should be just what I need.// It wouldn't be what the doctor ordered, but Jerry could be kind of a fussbudget at the best of times. Over the past year, Toby had learned to recognize what he needed. He needed Chris right now-- the chance to talk and to share his innermost thoughts with this sensitive man. Toby was sure that Chris would be cautious--he'd want to protect Toby. Toby knew what he required, and he intended to bypass all of Chris' protective instincts until they both got what they needed, to finally express their love for each other physically.

"Sure, no problem. With the kids away at my parents, I've got all the time in the world." Toby loosened the seatbelt so that he could lean against the door of the car and just stare. It might seem odd to some people, but the urge to watch his would-be-lover drive was intoxicating. Chris was so commanding when he drove--one hand confidently turned the wheel, the other hand bent with the elbow resting on the opened window.

The dark blue Jaguar had been a surprise; somehow it seemed too conservative to suit Chris. A classic corvette or a Jeep were some of the vehicles that Toby had pictured when Chris mentioned that they'd be driving home in his car.

Yet, as soon as the man slid behind the wheel, it all clicked together. The soft beige interior was a butter-soft leather, and Toby was enjoying the comfortable ride. Chris was a very good driver- -he watched the road intently. But what made Toby feel warm inside were the times that they stopped at a traffic light; during those times, those gorgeous blue eyes would turn to surreptitiously survey him, as if Chris were checking to make sure that he was really there. //Like I'm gonna jump out of the car or something. Sorry, Chris. I'm here to stay.//

"Good. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, baby," Chris said as he maneuvered around a taxi.

//Oh, I intend to see that we both do.// Toby leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes. The smooth ride and the smell of Chris' cologne were making him relax--now that he was out of hospital and alone with Chris. His tired mind drifted back to the morning, when the detective had left him alone with his brother.

"So, ya gonna take those? Or keep looking at them for *another* ten minutes?"

Toby sighed in exasperation as he studied the pills lying on his palm. "I'm getting there; don't get your underwear in a knot!" Betsy had brought back aspirin, and a whole lot more. The tablet was for the nausea; Toby'd taken one earlier and they had helped him calm his stomach enough to force down some runny eggs.

The big green capsule was another pill he was very familiar with--an antidepressant. Jerry must have thought he'd need it to cope with the trauma. Clueless bastard! The only thing that he needed was to get naked with Chris for a few days. After that he'd be ready to face this situation or anything else that could come up.

A plastic cup was shoved under his nose. Toby glared over the rim of his glasses, at his brother's grinning face. He sighed gustily as he yanked the cup out of Angus' hand, popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed. After a year of pill-popping, he could do it effortlessly-- that wasn't a skill he'd hoped to acquire.

"Thanks. You're a real...help."

Angus just grinned and tousled his brother's soft hair before he grabbed the cup back and placed it back on a table. "Hey, I'm a useful guy. Not only did I help you get dressed, but I'm also playing butler, too. I'm a regular Fitzwilly, here."

Toby smiled as his brother sat beside him on the bed. An arm curled around his shoulder in silent support--a support that had always been there, no questions asked. Toby sank his head onto that shoulder and closed his eyes. It felt nice to feel safe again.

"A little bird mentioned that Chris spent the night here?" A hand tightened around Toby, as Angus asked, "Anything I should know about?"

Toby looked up into the concerned eyes watching him. "No, nothing you couldn't read about on the internet."

Angus studied his brother; Toby looked tense but there was a new contentment in his eyes. Gussie knew in his gut that it was due to a certain detective who seemed intent to sweep his brother off of his feet. //About damn time someone appreciated him.// "Was it good?"

Toby smirked. "Wha'do ya think, Gussie?"

"I think that I might be too young to hear the unvarnished truth." Toby started to chuckle and Angus finally found himself unwinding. He'd heard a few *things* from Jeremiah Cloutier; Angus and Jerry had attended prep school together and had remained friends. Obviously, Toby wasn't ready to talk about the assault, but Gussie was sure that Chris would force him to discuss it. A blind man would recognize that the detective adored his brother. Toby needed to know that; he looked like he needed some good news.

"Whenever you're not looking, your smitten beau looks at you...with this expression in his eyes--stunned, like your some kind of angel and he can't believe his luck."

Toby blinked, shocked by that revelation. Gussie had good instincts about people. Toby was about to answer that remark when the door to the room creaked opened. A dark head peered in and Toby smiled at Ronnie Barlog.

"Hey guys; a little bird mentioned that you were here. Can I come in?"

Angus leaned close to his brother's ear and muttered, "That bird is a real slut--it's been busy," Toby stifled a grin as Gussie looked over toward Ronnie. "You can come on in if you promise to spill it. What the hell happened to you? You look like an extra from The Mummy?"

Ronnie smiled in relief and wheeled into the room. He rolled over to the bed and was immediately engulfed in Toby's arms. Barlog wrapped his arms around the slim body and sighed in contentment. The lawyer was more than a scrumptious piece of ass; he was the first person to offer true friendship--he intended to savor every minute of this brief embrace.

Ronnie steeled himself when Gussie hugged him--for once, the embrace was gentle. //Hmm, I guess this stupid chair does come in handy for something.// When the brothers were settled back on the bed, Ronnie looked over toward those friendly, blue eyes that were watching him. There was a peace radiating out of Toby's eyes that Ronnie had never witnessed.

"I just wheeled on over for a *quick* visit. I've gotta get back for a round of tests."

Toby groaned in sympathy; he'd had enough of tests to last a lifetime. He also had some idea of the demons this man was wrestling with; he wasn't going to bring anything up--Ronnie looked too fragile to survive a confrontation. As Toby looked toward Barlog, his gut filled with a mixture of anger and pity. Anger that this man's jealousy had led to his friend's death; pity that Barlog still seemed to need Toby's forgiveness. Toby was sure his emotions were reflecting in his eyes--Ronnie had always been able to read him like a book, so maybe he wouldn't need to say a word about the unfortunate subject.

"Well, what happened to you?" Gussie asked again. There was a story here; the guy looked ready to die of unease and he seemed to be having trouble lifting his eyes off the pattern on the rug. //Hmm, maybe you've heard about Chris? No...there's more here.// Angus glanced over toward his brother, who also looked uncomfortable. //He knows something; I'll have to work on him until he tells me.//

Ronnie shrugged and looked down at his hands in embarrassment. "I got drunk and...fell in my bathroom."

The brothers cracked up with laughter, as Ronnie had intended. He didn't think that Toby needed to know about Robson's involvement in his accident right now; he'd been through enough today.

"Are you all right?" Toby asked as he wiped tears from his eyes. The man did look pale, and he had moved back toward the door, as if he were dying to leave.

"Yeah, fine." Ronnie scanned Beecher, checking him for visible injuries. "How about you? Last I heard, you were dead."

Toby grimaced. "Nope, very much alive, thank god." Toby watched a slim hand open the door as Ronnie maneuvered into the opening. "Stop by the apartment when you have more time. There's...someone I want you to meet."

//I'm sure there is.// "I'll try. I've got a bunch of commissions piled up. See ya." With that, Ronnie wheeled out the door.

"Do we smell?"

"Well," Toby drawled out. "I'm so clean I squeak--these nurses just love giving sponge baths. As for you..."

Angus Beecher looked into the familiar blue eyes of the brother he adored, and let loose with a loud raspberry; it was childish but effective.

"Toby, wake up." Chris' gentle voice brought Toby out of his reminiscences.

The car pulled into a driveway, next to an old house in the Village. Toby eagerly studied the brick building, which was obviously well maintained. It was four stories, with a small café on the first floor. Toby glanced at the small neon sign--Nicole's. The name made him recall an intimate restaurant filled with small tables and couches--where live music was performed on a small dais as the patrons drank cappuccinos from the coffee bar; no alcohol was served at Nicole's. Cozy and dark--a great dating locale. The menu featured soups, breads and desserts--the kind of light snacks that people craved after a night out at the theater.

"Hey, I've been to that place. Do you know the owners?" Chris just smiled cryptically as he turned off the engine. Toby didn't bother to interpret the mysterious look; the smell emanating from the café was making his mouth water. "I thought it closed when the owner moved to California to take care..."

Toby's voice trained off as he climbed out of the car. Chris also climbed out and walked over toward Toby. "Nicole is your mom, isn't she?"

"Yup." Chris nodded, as he flipped the keys into the air and deftly caught them in his right hand. "Mom used all the old family recipes to create the soups--that's what she specialized in: soups, breads and desserts. When they were going to sell the place, my sister and her husband bought it off her and reopened it a few weeks ago." Chris placed his arm around Toby's back and began to lead him down an alley, toward a large backdoor.

"Nate does most of the cooking--thank god." Chris smiled as he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the windows; they looked so good walking together like this. Toby looked edible in a gray muscle shirt and the 'extra-extra-large' logo on the front. His long legs and pert ass were also difficult to ignore in a pair of well-worn, cutoff shorts.

Having Toby beside him made Chris feel proud; he wanted to show off to the world that this man loved him. He'd start by introducing Toby to his sister and her husband. Besides Sean, they were the only people in this city whose opinion mattered to the detective, until he met Toby.

Chris reached out with his left hand and opened the door--it traditionally wasn't locked. Even before their son had become a policeman, the Keller family never bolted this door. Chris' mother's excuse was that it was for the family and she would never deliberately keep her family out. The strange thing was that they'd never been robbed, even with this door left unlocked.

"I love my little sis to death, but her cooking is inedible. Even POW's wouldn't touch her muck!"

"I heard that!" a musical voice called out. "Apologize now! Don't make me have to hurt you in front of your friend, Chris!" When Toby's eyes adjusted to the lighting, he could see a woman sitting on a stool next to a large counter. A man was scurrying around the kitchen stirring the contents of several pots simmering on the stove. Toby inhaled the heavenly scent of lentil soup.

"Nate, did you hear that?" Chris called out to a somewhat overweight, bearded man who was tasting the soup on a long wooden spoon. "She's threatening potential customers!"

"Ya gotta pay to be considered a customer, you leach." Nate's green eyes twinkled as he placed the spoon on a spotless counter and walked closer toward Chris and Toby. "And I've never seen the cover of your wallet--never mind any cash, you cheap bastard."

The lively woman at the counter laughed as she stood up and walked over beside her husband. She was tall, around 5'10, with long, straight black hair. Although she was thin, her bare arms were well toned and she had a well-proportioned figure. Midnight blue eyes studied Toby curiously as dimples appeared beside the mobile mouth.

"Hi!" she called out as she placed her arm around her husband's waist.

"Hello, Toby. I'm Nathan Rodriguez; this feisty handful here is Kyra, my wife." Toby shook the tall man's hand--Nate towered over him by at least half a foot. Yet the eyes and the voice were gentle-- here was a man who used logic and reasoning to solve problems, not his brawn.

Toby liked him--he could tell that he was 'good people'. Toby also liked Kyra, although her startling beauty did make him catch his breath. She was bewitchingly beautiful in the same way that her older brother was handsome.

"Welcome to Casa Keller, Toby," the woman stated. Toby shook Kyra's hand eagerly as the couple studied him. They seemed satisfied with their search, because Kyra returned to her stool and patted one beside her, inviting Toby to sit. Nate walked back to his neglected pots and continued to fuss over them, adding in some spice and tasting the results.

Toby walked over to the stool and sank into it as he gazed around the large kitchen. Everything was immaculate, from the herbs hanging in a corner to the assortment of pots all neatly stacked on shelves. This place was obviously well-loved and well-maintained. Something about the combination of the old fashioned cupboards and the modern appliances reminded him of Chris.

Toby ran a hand through his hair and rubbed it against the back of his neck. Suddenly, he noticed Kyra studying him, smiling gently. Toby felt his cheeks flush with color as he asked, "How did you know who I was? Chris never even introduced me?"

"Yup, he didn't; my mom would've brained him for that piece of rudeness."

"Hah," Chris called out over his shoulder. "You're just bitter because mom likes me better than you. Jealousy is such an unattractive quality, Ky."

Toby glanced around nervously and spotted Chris over near the stove. Nate was threatening him with the wooden spoon while the detective kept attempting to reach around the cook toward the simmering pots-- which wasn't allowed; in this kitchen, Nate fiercely guarded his domain.

Chris flashed his winning smile toward his brother-in-law, hoping that it would charm the cook into letting him have access to the pots. "Hey, you looked puzzled. I was just trying to offer my assistance to solve your little culinary conundrum, here." Chris tried to sneak his arm toward a pot, but Nate stepped closer and glared menacingly.

"Pffft. When I need *your* advice, I'll sell this place." When Nate smacked Chris' hand with the spoon, the detective finally gave up with a loud huff. The cook smiled in triumph.

Nate turned his head and called out an explanation to the lawyer, who was sitting behind him. "Chris called us yesterday and this morning. It was Toby this and Toby that--"

"He informed us that you'd be stopping by, and we were lectured to be on our best behavior and wash behind our ears," Kyra supplied as she picked up the pen and continued working on a business ledger. "We *ignored* him--as usual. It's better if you see us for what we really are, so you can run while the runnin's good." Kyra winked at Toby, as she leaned closer and whispered, "Frankly, I've never seen him so worked up over anyone."

Toby felt his cheeks turning red, as Chris walked over beside him and pulled up another stool right beside him as he rubbed his sore hand. Toby could feel his leg brushing against the detective's strong one. Having someone want to be so close to him was wonderful. Toby leaned his body closer toward Chris' and the detective obligingly put his arm around him.

Chris held out the injured hand, right under Toby's nose. Toby wasn't sure what he was asking for, so he gently kissed it. Chris smiled in triumph toward his sister, as he settled into the seat and pulled Toby closer toward him. Obviously, Chris wanted his family to know they were a couple. Judging by Nate and Kyra's lack of reaction, the idea of their brother being involved with a man didn't bother either of them.

Toby found himself relaxing, now that he understood where things stood. Having Chris beside him also made him feel less shy around these friendly people. Toby glanced over at Chris, who was still playfully glaring at Nate. //I bet you never feel nervous when you meet new people? Maybe you'll teach me to have more confidence.//

"Nate, Toby's had nothing but hospital food all day," Chris' indignantly voice proclaimed from a safe distance. "I think that some of that soup would hit the spot--for him, that is." He'd snuck a taste of the goop they'd left for Toby--even the green jello had been tasteless. Chris was still pondering how anyone, even a hospital, could ruin jello--it was idiot-proof.

Nate was already pouring some of the soup into a large ceramic bowl, which he placed in front of the lawyer. "Just him, eh?"

"Weeeelll," Chris answered as he got up and retrieved two spoons from a drawer and brought them back to the counter. He handed one to Toby as he slid back onto the stool. "I've been working around the clock, solving this case and making the city streets safe." Chris tapped his spoon on the counter. "I wouldn't mind some of that stuff too. Oh yeah, and some of the bread. Buttered please."

Nate slid another bowl in front of Chris, who dove into it like a famine victim. Toby cautiously raised the spoon to his lips and almost groaned out loud. The soup was a feast for the senses. The broth itself was lightly seasoned, and the stock was thick with crunchy carrots, celery, macaroni and lentils. As the hot soup slid down his throat, Toby savored the medley of flavors--Nathaniel was obviously a culinary genius.

Nate also placed some thick slices of brown bread on the table; homemade butter was oozing over the thick crust. Toby picked up a piece and tasted it--honey wheat. He moaned aloud as he chewed the hot bread. //Gees, this food is almost better than sex.// Toby's eyes rested on Chris, who had already finished half the bowl of soup and was practically inhaling a slice of the bread. //Naah, but...it's a close second.//

"So, how's the little squirrel doin' at camp? Has he gotten many numbers yet?" Chris asked around mouthfuls of bread.

Kyra and Nate exchanged speaking glances and rolled their eyes. "His last e-mail mentioned that some girls, Bethany and Adriana, got into a glue fight over him." Kyra pointed her pen toward her brother's grinning face, "I knew that he was spending way too much time with you in your loft. Six year olds are not supposed to be attracting girls."

"Hey, the Keller men are babe magnets--it's a curse." Chris caught the slice of bread that Kyra tossed at him and bit into it with relish. "He's gotta pick up the slack, now that I'm officially off the market." He glanced over at Toby who blushed rosily as he continued to savor his soup.

Having Toby here--in this special place--made everything finally seem real. It had all happened, and Toby wanted to be here with him. Chris was tempted to pinch himself; to make sure this all wasn't a dream. He'd had lots of disappointments with love--been there, done that, lost the tee shirts in the divorce settlements; this one was different.

Suddenly, Toby glanced up and noticed that Chris was watching him. A shy smile lit the expressive face and a sparkle illuminated those beautiful eyes before Toby looked down. Somehow, Chris instinctively knew that the special smile was all his--no one had ever seen it before. Chris couldn't resist the urge to reach out his hand and rub it over a strong thigh, reassuring himself that the blond was really here in his home, meeting his family.

With a loud sigh, Nate collapsed onto a stool next to his wife. The restaurant would be opening in a few hours, but everything was organized and prepared already--just the way he liked it to be. He glanced down at the reservations that Kyra was carefully writing into the book--it would be a full house tonight. "He's gotten chummy with the camp's chef--some weird Vietnam vet, quite a weird character there. He's having a ball helping the guy make chicken nuggets." Nate shuddered dramatically.

Kyra placed a hand on her husband's arm and smiled proudly, "He was born to cook--like father like son." Kyra looked over at the lawyer, whose blue eyes looked bemused. "Nathan Jr. is our son and Chris' godson."

Toby nodded his head in understanding. It was hard to imagine that this glamorous woman was a mother; she looked more suited for a career as a runway model. Toby had noticed the graceful walk and the confidence almost immediately--this was most definitely Chris' sister. He also noticed that Nate couldn't keep his eyes off of his wife. //Do I look at Chris like that?// Toby glanced over at the detective and decided that he probably did.

This love business was complicated. Just the sight of Chris could make a feeling of euphoria pour through him and make him smile. It felt wondrous, warm, loving and safe. Toby was sure that this relationship would take work, but as he watched Chris mop up the last bit of soup with a piece of bread, he instinctively knew that Chris wanted him in his life, to be part of his family, and his future. Chris was willing to put in the effort to make things work and Toby wanted that too--more than he'd ever wanted anything.

"We met in Italy. Nathan was in the Navy, working as a chef and I was there working as an interpreter at the American Embassy." Kyra explained as Toby tried to tear his eyes off of Chris and concentrate on finishing the bowl of soup and listening to the story. "It was love at first sight--the family tradition. I married him a week later. One year after that, Nathaniel Christopher was born and he's been keeping us on our toes ever since; our little terror is away at camp for the next few weeks, and we're enjoying the peace."

"Ha, she lies like a rug." Nate patted his wife's shoulder. "She's been scanning the computer constantly looking for his e-mails and she's called the camp five times since he left, two days ago. The operator at the camp already knows her voice."

Kyra laughed and swatted her husband's muscular arm. Toby studied the couple and found that he liked what he was seeing. Kyra was stylish and slim, with her flawless skin highlighted with just a touch of makeup. Nate's style was more easygoing; he was wearing a Star Trek tee shirt over a protruding stomach. A pair of old jeans and sneakers completed his attire. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, was almost as long as his wife's; when he smiled, it was hard to resist the warmth and charm that sparkled from a pair of emerald green eyes.

Toby thought that they looked good together; the teasing remarks and the way they looked into each other's eyes clearly showed anyone that they were in love--and their different personalities seemed to mesh to form a cohesive union of minds and souls.

Toby stirred the soup in his bowl as he pondered his thoughts. He'd always been a conventional man, who worried about how he looked and how people perceived him. That had all changed this last year--his year of freedom. He'd learned to dismiss the opinions of others and only listen to people that he loved and his own good judgment. Would he have considered a relationship with Chris two years ago? Probably not. Chris had come along right at the time when Toby was ready for love. Maybe there was such a thing as fate. How else could he have been lucky enough to wind up here--instantly loved and accepted for himself by these remarkable people.

He lifted his eyes; two pairs of anxious eyes were watching him. "Well?" Kyra prompted.

"This soup is ambrosia." Toby stated as he lifted another spoonful toward his mouth.

Kyra and Nate chuckled as they exchanged glances. "Ky wasn't talking about the soup, Toby. Although, if it helps Chris's case, I'll supply you with a lifetime supply of the stuff. Are you...um...freaked out by all this?" Nate waved his hand in the air. "This family is known for being kind of intense and emotional."

Toby placed the spoonful of soup into his mouth as he considered his response. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the question had actually distracted Chris from inhaling the last drops of soup off the bottom of the bowl. Toby knew that this little pit stop hadn't been just to pick up a few things; Chris had taken him to meet his family and get their approval. Judging from the friendly, teasing attitude in the kitchen, it looked like he'd passed their test. Now they wanted to know how what he thought about them.

It was difficult to articulate. This family was such a polar opposite of his--so warm and upfront. Toby glanced through the arched doors that lead to the small café. He could see portraits adorning the walls of the other room. Even from this distance, he could see that they were all pictures of the family--mostly black and white pictures featuring Chris and Kyra as children and teenagers.

Hanging in this kitchen, along the back wall, there was also a portrait of a striking woman with dark hair--Nicole. She was sitting on a couch with her children sitting on each side of her. A young boy sat at her feet--Chris' nephew. Nate and a gray haired man were standing in back of the couch. His children had obviously inherited the midnight blue eyes on the man; Mr. Keller was a striking man. Toby was sure that Chris would look just like that when he grew older; they looked very similar.

"No, I think you guys are...great! Your son is lucky to have such a supportive and loving family." Kyra blushed with happiness and Nate smiled proudly before he got up to attend to the other pots.

The phone rang and Kyra ran to answer it, since it was the business line. Chris nudged Toby with his elbow. "Ya done?"

The soup had been delicious, but Toby was already full; he'd never been a big eater, and the meds were also affecting his appetite. "Yeah." Toby said as Chris grabbed his arm and began to lead him toward a staircase at the far end of the room.

"Thanks for the soup," Toby called out as he followed Chris up the stairs.

They traveled up a flight and paused to catch their breath. "Nate and Kyra live in my parent's old apartment on the second floor. I'd show you around, but I forgot to ask Ky's permission--women are funny that way." Toby and Chris shared an understanding look--women were an enigma that mere men would never understand. "The place is always immaculate, but she'd have kittens if I took you in there before she spiffied it up."

Chris pointed toward another pair of stairs. "I converted the attic and the third floor into a loft and that's where I've been living since I made detective." Chris looked down at the carpeting for a minute as he explained, "Besides my family, you're the only other person who's ever seen my apartment. Murph never made it up all these stairs, the lazy bastard."

Toby's eyes widened in awe as he gazed up the stairwell toward this mysterious habitat that Christopher Keller called home. Toby was suddenly dying of curiosity to see this apartment. He was sure that it would be unique and beautiful--just like Chris.

Go to next part.

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