THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Hayden

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

PROLOGUE

Somewhere in England

"Meet Mr John Doe," Dr Alexis Denisof told his group of first-year
interns. "Yes, this is the same man currently embroiled in the
brawl between the pro-euthanasia and pro-life groups." He pulled
the curtains of the window aside and grimaced. "In fact, there is
one such group out there right now - let me see what they are
holding up - 'God' is all I can make out, so I can safely say it's
a pro-life rabble."

The interns laughed weakly - Dr Denisof rarely made jokes. He had
a reputation for being a quiet but hard taskmaster who exacted
everything and tolerated no fools. Even now, they weren't sure
whether the doctor was joking or not. His face was as always an
unreadable mask of calm and indifference.

"Now, Jenny," he said abruptly, pulling the curtains back and
turning to look at his victim. "Take a look at Mr John Doe and
tell me as much as you can about this man's... condition."

"But, without an X-ray and..."

"So you can't," Dr Denisof cut in abruptly. "You there, Lachlan."

"Ah!" Lachlan actually squealed. He was a timid thing who had been
trying to meld into the background. "I don't know."

"Well, anyone knows?" Dr Denisof's voice was still pleasant and
calm, but there was no mistaking the chill that every student here
felt from him now. "Or have this long weekend of beer, sex, and
drugs have overtaken your priorities for the upcoming finals?"

A man almost shyly raised his hand.

"Yes, Seth?" the doctor asked, lifting a brow in a gesture of pure
disdain.

"I think," the student named Seth said in a shaky, hesitant voice,
"that this slight indentation on the man's left temple here...
er..."

"Go on," Dr Denisof said.

"Probably it's a blow to the cranium?"

"You can use the word 'skull'. There are no social art students
here for you to impress with your medical terminology."

If he had made sixteen lifelong enemies that day, Dr Denisof
didn't seem to mind at all. "Forget it, let's move on to our next
patient."

"Wait!" Seth cried, surprising them all. "Look," he said, lifting
the progress chart he had been surreptitiously reading. "I'll say
he is hit hard in the cerebral cortex."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Seth Hall," Dr Denisof said as he took the chart out of the
intern's hand. "You will not ever hold back any information or
dumb yourself down in my presence again, do you understand me? You
think I'm a bastard, don't you?" He cast the other interns a
sweeping glance. "Well, get used to it. There will be heads of
departments and patients and their relatives that will bigger
bastards than I am, so if I drive you to tears, I suggest you quit
now, especially when one day you may just end up reporting to me.
Now, that's not everything, is it, Seth?"

Seth Hall gulped and shook his head.



Alexis Denisof gulped down the remainder of his 7-Up and gave a
sigh of relief as the drink burned his parched throat. "I hate
interns. I hate their idealism, and I dislike their assumption
that they will remain perky and idealistic. Wait until their first
patient dies on them, those sad dumb fucks."

Dr Emily Harding shook her head. "You are one evil man, Alex. I
would hate to have you supervising me when I was an intern."

"I don't need everyone to love me, Em. Just you and maybe a few
other people." Alex gave her his rare smile. "Are those donuts?"

"You can't have any." But she let him have one anyway. "I -
Jesus!"

Alex and she turned towards the door of the staff room, which had
just been flung open. A harried junior doctor was close to
hyperventilating. "Mr John Doe is awake!"

"Oh good. Maybe they'll stop making a nuisance of themselves
outside this place every morning," Alex said, referring to the
picketers.

"He's holding Nurse Addy hostage and demanding to be let out of
this place," the doctor stammered.

Alex just calmly chewed and swallowed a piece of the donut. "So?"

Emily just gave Alex a dark look as she pulled Alex along with
him. "You are one sad man, Alex. I have no idea how that nice Luke
puts up with you. Come on, let's go do some damage repair."




ONE

Julian McMahon and Brian Littrell were two men with dark secrets
and darker psyche. One was a killer and the other could arrange
for people to be killed, although now they were doing their best
to be normal, law-abiding citizens. More often than not, the
skills they learned in their trade came in useful in situations
where the boundaries of right and wrong did not exist.

"So let me get this straight." Julian said, "Carl Benson arranged
for this guy to be removed from his son. You want my firm to
protect a man from a young boy?"

"Hey," Brian protested. "You should understand that Hayden
Christensen was one twisted fuck. He will be 20 this year, but he
had been training in the arts of ken-jutsu - "

"What?" Julian asked. "You're afraid of a samurai wannabe?" He
laughed despite himself.

"Hayden had been training since he was a kid. It was something out
of a Tai-Pan story, but the short gist is: Hayden lost his parents
when he was a kid of one or two, he got adopted by an uncle in
Japan who was two cards short of a deck, and when the uncle died,
he made his way here to the US of A, lulled by hopes of
discovering his family roots. By then his uncle had trained and
instilled some strange values on him."

"Instead of discovering his family roots," Julian cut in, "he met
Shaun Benson, they fucked like rabbits, his father sent Shaun
away, and..." "And arranged for Hayden to be framed for Shaun's
rape and thrown into prison for a year," Brian finished.

"Oh." Julian scratched his head. "And you want me to protect Carl
Benson? Hell, I'll shoot that old fuck myself."

"Someone is slowly destroying the lives of every one who was ever
involved in this mess. Jerold, the key (false) witness, died a few
days ago - slit from ear to ear. Rothmans who fired Hayden from
his job when Carl pressured the man to do so lost his shoe store
and everything he had in a fire. And now Carl, my boss' biggest
investor, is afraid for his life."

"I'll pass." Julian sat back and smiled at Brian insolently. "I
happen to side with this Hayden, so I may happen to ask my men to
be a little less vigilant than they are used to be."

"Damn you. Jeremy - "

"Jeremy's not here. He's in China negotiating some potential
business connections for us, so it's just me who's making the
decisions. And it's still no." Julian relaxed his voice into a
more persuasive intonation. "Look, he's just a boy. Send a few of
your old friends over. Kevin, perhaps? No matter how good a boy is
with the samurai sword, nothing is better than good old
firepower."

"Wanna bet?" Brian retorted.

"Fuck, I'm curious about this guy," Julian said finally. "Let me
talk to Carl myself."



The way of samurai was more than just the way of the bushido and
the kendo. The young man, dressed in black, was also steeped in
the more mysterious ways of nin-jitsu, but he lived the way of the
samurai. With easy agility, he leaped into the window, having
bypassed security systems that would have caught any mere mortal.

But Hayden was no mere mortal. He was a samurai, and it was his
way to die for his master whom his loyalty, devotion, and
affection lay. Yet Shaun Benson was dead, and Hayden was alive.
The way of the non-shoku - to die for one's master - was broken,
and he would right this before he join Shaun in the afterlife.

It was beyond non-shoku, this reason for his flaming, unreasonable
anger. It was also in the samurai's code, the conduct of
wakashudo. A young samurai must submit to his master, for the
master would tutor the young samurai in ways of bushido as well as
the ways of sex. Hayden had been waiting all these years for a
daimyo (master) he could follow, thus fulfilling the cycle, and he
found one in Shaun. For Shaun he had given everything he had - his
life, fealty, loyalty, and body - and when Shaun died, he died
too. And until he had destroyed them all, he would live a life of
living death, a ronin adrift in the shadows.

He had his blade out of its sheath the moment his intended target
calmly turned on the lights. Hayden closed his eyes for a second
to adjust his vision, but not long enough for Michael Weatherly to
pull his revolver out of where he was keeping it in his holster.

But Michael Weatherly, unlike the sniveling fuck Jerold, didn't
whine or plead for his life. He just breathed heavier, the only
indication of his fear, as Hayden pressed the blade against the
man's neck right under the Adam's apple.

"You can't hurt me by killing Cuba," Michael said with a short
humorless laugh. "I sent him away. That's what you figured, right?
He's my weakness, and you will kill him because that way I will
suffer as much as you did."

"Shut up!" Hayden yelled, and then tried to control himself. No
one had mentioned or even seemed to know how much he had loved
Shaun, until Michael, and he was unprepared for the insane fury
Michael's words unleashed. Michael gasped as the blade bit a
shallow cut, drawing blood. "You have no idea," he whispered. "You
have no idea how much pain I endured."

"You're a ronin now," Michael said, and at Hayden's noticeable
tremor, he nodded his head. "I've read up on samurais. I thought I
knew everything, but I had no idea then how my thoughtless aid to
Carl destroyed Shaun and you. If you want to kill me now, do it. I
won't beg for my life." He laughed in short humorless heaves. "I
won't ease your conscience."

"I have no conscience," Hayden said. "You killed my lover and
master."

"Really? Shaun was no samurai, and he certainly wasn't your
mentor. So how the hell did he end up your master?" Michael said,
and then hissed when the blade bit deeper.

"I won't kill you," Hayden said. "You were kind to me. But you
also believed Carl when he said that I raped his son, and you
hired the best lawyers and false witnesses to put me in that
fucking hell. Do you know what it is like for someone like me to
be in that hell? Look at me!"

Michael couldn't. Hayden, at twenty now, was still an unbelievably
beautiful boy, his elfin features almost feminine at times, and
behind closed bars and surrounded by violent men, he would indeed
be living in hell.

"I fought them off," Hayden said. If his voice shook in remembered
pain, Michael didn't push his advantage. He too had been living
with his conscience ever since he learned of Carl's perfidy, and
maybe this was his apt punishment. "And the wardens then accused
me of being a troublemaker and they took me to this room where
they tied me up and beat me and... and... my body belongs to
Shaun, you fucking freak. Do you know how it feels to be violated
right down to my soul? You have helped them destroy my pride and
more importantly, Shaun. I lived two years in hell waiting for the
day I can get out and avenge myself and Shaun."

"Yeah. And I would cheer you on if it isn't my life we're talking
about here," Michael managed to say through the burning pain at
his throat.

"You were kind to me," Hayden said softly, perhaps debilitating to
himself. "You took pity on a lonely kind and gave me a job with
your friend. But what you did was wrong. I'm sorry, Michael. You
were the least evil of them all, but you must pay."

It happened faster than he could blink. Michael screamed as
excruciating agony erupted in every sense of his body even as his
knees suddenly gave way. He fell face down on the floor. And then
he realized, through the pain, the loss of any sensation of his
legs. The fuck had cut some nerve point on both his knees, and he
couldn't move his legs.

"Don't worry, you can still get a hard-on. I hope you buy a nice
wheelchair, and I hope your boyfriend will remain just as caring
when he realizes that he is now saddled with a paraplegic."
Hayden's cocky grin was shaky, however, and there was a trail of
tears down his face.

And then he was gone.

Michael saw the cell phone on the floor within his reach - Hayden
had dropped it there as one singular act of mercy. As he numbly
called for an ambulance, he laughed as he realized that Hayden had
indeed found his one greatest weakness. If Cuba left him now
because Cuba couldn't deal with Michael... oh, how Michael
laughed. And he was still laughing when the paramedics found him.



Michael opened his eyes. He could sense someone in this darkened
ward. Cuba? He looked around. No, Cuba was asleep at the corner,
the man still furious that Michael refused to tell who did this to
him. He didn't understand that Michael didn't care: he was now
counting the days until Cuba would get tired to nursing him and
leave. What care did he that Hayden got arrested? He couldn't send
Hayden back to hell.

There was another person who stood in the shadows now. In Cuba's
traumatized state, this stranger managed to remain hidden for this
long.

"Come out, damn you," Michael said.

Cuba didn't stir. "I added some sleeping pills in his coffee," the
intruder said, and walked into the light. "He needed some rest
after all that shouting. He must love you much."

The intruder was an ordinary-looking man with no distinguishing
feature, unless when he smiled, whence his green eyes would light
up and seemed to illuminate every feature of his wholesome
blandness into something ethereal and breathtaking to the eyes.
Michael should know. He had known Shaun Benson almost all his late
teens and adult life, and they had been best of friends, until
Shaun killed himself upon hearing about Hayden's incarceration. He
didn't even come back from England where his father had banished
him. He just jumped into the sea one day and his body was never
found again. Michael preferred to believe that he was resting at
the bottom of the sea.

"Shaun," he said. "I'm glad to see you," he said with a sob. "I'm
so glad to see you," he said once more.

"Yeah, me too. You helped my father send Hayden to prison, and
yeah, I'm glad to see you."

Michael closed his eyes at the pure hatred contorting Shaun's face
into a hideous mask. Then he heard Shaun sigh, and Michael looked
to see the usual carefree Shaun, the spineless Shaun who couldn't
fight his father and meekly gave up his boyfriend when his father
asked.

"It's not fully your fault," Shaun said, as if he could read
Michael's thoughts. "I should've fought him harder. I should've
let his disown me and I will... I will... but what can I do? I
have no skills and I'm only Carl Benson's useless son," he said
weakly. "My greatest sin here is that I could not love Hayden as
much as he me. I didn't love him enough."

"Shaun - "

"He was only 19, and he was so good to me. He swore that he would
work like a bull to support me if I didn't want to work," Shaun
said, sitting down on the bed beside Michael and looking down at
Michael. "And he would trade his prized katana, the one his uncle
left him, to buy me a diamond ring. And I thought then, well, he
was just a boy. He was just like me, na‹ve and foolish. We'll
never make it out there, and he deserves someone better than me.
So in that moment of rare adult maturity in all my 24 years of
living, I called him and said goodbye before leaving for England.
And what did you all do?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know. You believed the lies my father told you. I didn't say
goodbye to you, so perhaps that was why you can believe that I
fled in terror of Hayden. It was my idea to keep this "us" under
wraps, after all. Don't want my father to get angry and disown
me." Shaun laughed softly in self-mockery. "Do you know what I
thought about when I jumped off that cliff?"

"No," Michael just answered.

"It's my fault, and I could do this right if I just go back. If I
can just get over my own selfishness and see Hayden. But by then
it's too late. I was falling to my death. Or so I thought. I was
in a coma, and I woke up two months ago. A year too late to stop
Hayden and tell him how sorry I am." Shaun absently wiped away at
the tears on Michael's cheek with his thumb, a gentle gesture. "I
don't blame you, my friend, because you were acting as my friend
back then. The useless joker and the monkey boy, how did we last
that long as friends?" He smiled weakly at Michael. "I wish I can
heal your legs, Michael, but we both know what a useless fuck I
am. I wish I can turn back time and be who Hayden deserves to
have."

"Hayden is on a killing spree," Michael couldn't help pointing
out.

"Yeah, because of me. I can make it right. I can stop this before
things get worse, and you'll never see me and Hayden again, I
promise."

"What are you going to do?" Michael asked, afraid of the answer
but he had to know it nonetheless. "Shaun, don't leave - what are
you going to do? Answer me, Shaun! Shaun!"

Shaun didn't even look back.



TWO

Even vengeful demons couldn't subsist on hatred alone. Hayden sat
on the park bench and watched the children play. He was good with
kids, always had been, because unlike adults, kids could like him
and talk to him even when his ideas and philosophy were
bewildering according to modern norms. Kids liked it when he made
them things out of wood or paper, and they liked it when he drew
cartoons and stuff for them. Being a temporary assistant at the
local daycare was a perfect job for a killing machine like him.

"Hello, Hayden." A man eased into the space beside him on the
bench.

"Hi Jules." Julian McMahon was a nice man whom Hayden met a few
days back at a restaurant nearby where Hayden went for a cheap
dinner, and they had sparked off then. Julian was a gun collector,
probably the only gay man in America that would support the NRA if
NRA wasn't run and filled with bigoted fuckwits.

But more importantly, Julian knew what it was like to live by a
code of honor, although Julian had ruefully admitted that he
thought of himself more as a Texan Ranger of the past than a
samurai. Julian was also a guy involved with someone, another
thing Hayden found they had in common. He didn't want to make
friends, but it wasn't too bad to have someone to talk to, Hayden
had reluctantly admitted to himself.

"Just watched you climb up that tree to save that cat," Julian
said. "You're almost unnaturally quick and agile."

"Well, it's nin-jitsu. All in the mind, and discipline and all
that shit," Hayden just said.

"You ninjas don't disappear and walk on walls just like the ninjas
in movies, right?"

"No, but we can climb walls very well."

"So what are you? A ninja or a samurai?"

"A samurai, although I can be either at any one time." Hayden
yelled a warning at a girl who was getting too close to the road.
To Julian, he said, "It's not that flashy, like the movies."

"Oh, I bet," Julian said agreeably. "Any plans this weekend? Maybe
you and your guy Shaun can meet Kane and me for dinner. I can show
you my favorite shooting range and you can repay me by taking me
on a sparring partner in that kendo class at my local gym. I
always wanted to try swordplay."

"I can't." He had plans this weekend involving Carl and lots of
blood and screams of pain. "Besides, Shaun is away. I'll be
meeting him again this Sunday. Maybe next week?"

"Yeah." Julian watched the kids play. "How did you and Shaun meet?
Humor me, I'm just a romantic old fool."

"Really?" asked Hayden skeptically, but he eased his posture. He
wanted to talk about it, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.
"Well... we met on March 16, two years ago. I just came here, and
I was working at this shoe store when this handsome man - Shaun -
came in. And he has nice feet, perfect toes, that's the first I
noticed, silly huh?"

"No, it's not," Julian said encouragingly.

"We didn't have his size, and I told him I could get the correct
size from the nearby main store if he would wait for half an
hour," Hayden said, his gaze softening as he remembered. "And so
we talked, and I thought he was the most perfect guy ever, funny,
charming, and gorgeous. We dated, and by the fourth date I knew
that he can't crack a decent joke, he smokes too much, and when we
kissed, I tasted ash."

"Oh," Julian said with a reassuring grin.

"But it's nice kissing him." Hayden swallowed as he realized that
he had been telling Julian intimate details and would probably
tell the man more should he be less careful. But it was so good to
feel no longer alone again, even if for a while, and he missed
Shaun until his heart ached, it felt good to let his demons out
even if for a moment.

"You ought to meet up with me and Kane sometimes," Julian said
quietly. "It's not easy being a guy with secrets and still trying
to maintain a happy ever after."

Hayden glanced sharply at Julian. "What do you mean?" he asked
suspiciously.

"Look, let's not pretend, Hayden. You know why we get along so
well. Look at me. Look at you. What you are to swords is what I am
to guns," Julian said. "I won't ask for your secrets, Hayden, but
I know you have many. As do I. I was a mercenary trained to kill
once, so yeah, I have blood on my hands. There's probably a place
reserved for hell right now especially for me. But Kane loves me,
I don't know, but he does, and sometimes I still wonder if one day
he will look at me closely and realize I'm not worth loving."

"I never had that problem," Hayden said in a low furious voice as
he cast Julian a defiant scowl.

"Then you can teach me how you do it," Julian just answered
calmly. "Look, if you think I'm sincere, call me. If not, fine. My
offer to show you around my favorite shooting range still stands -
we can go after you get off this shift."

"I'll think about it," was Hayden's answer.



Julian shut the bathroom door behind him and sat on the toilet
bowl, keeping his voice down so as to not awaken Kane. "He did...
what?"

"Severed some of Michael Weatherly's nerves at the kneepads, and
the surgeon said it was a clean, single sweep at each wound, the
work of a professional. Weatherly's not telling who did it, though
- fucker must had a conscience making him believe that he was to
blame," Brian said at the other end of the line. "But what's more
interesting is that he deliberately left some nerves intact so
that Weatherly could walk with the aid of crutches. I checked
their history, and guess what? Weatherly took Hayden in when the
boy arrived here, probably used the boy for sex, and then paid the
boy off with a job and a place to stay."

"No," Julian corrected the other man, remembering Hayden's
expression as he talked about Shaun. "I won't say that Weatherly
and Hayden had sex, because when I talked to him today, he spoke
of Shaun with all the dumb worshipful tones of a besotted fool
talking about the man who took his cherry. He still talks as if
Shaun is still alive. Wasn't Weatherly some circus freak? He
probably is also the kind of guy who takes pity on the occasional
stray and perform mighty feats of charity."

"What the fuck, actually. I just care that the boy may actually
have some decency in him - decency being, of course, a relative
term here. He didn't permanently paralyze the man who was kind to
him and also sent him to jail."

"If you are hoping that he will spare Carl because Carl's sperm
gave Shaun life, don't hold your breath," Julian told him.

"I'm not."

"Good. I'll be there this Friday."

"Oh, so you not only changed your mind about ditching this case,
but you now want to give it your personal attention?"

"Yes."

Silence, and then, "You like that boy, huh?"

"Yeah," Julian admitted. "And I'll make sure he doesn't destroy
himself by killing Carl."

"Ah, poor Jules. Ever the optimist about human nature."

"If you have seen his face today when he wax disgustingly mawkish
poetry about Shaun, you'll know as much as I do now he's just a
dumb young boy. A psychotic boy who, if you ask me, has created
some twisted rules to live by because no one gives him anything
else. I've read up on those samurai stuff, and in those days, what
he is doing now will make him a hero, not a sick villain."

"And now you're condoning his actions?" Brian asked, bemused.

"No. I'm just trying to save him. The guy lost it when he lost his
boyfriend, but I think I can still make him see sense. Somehow."



THREE

Like a wraith, he slipped silently into the shadows. The sheath
holding his katana was strapped to his back, Death himself
stalking the darkness to claim a victim. But Julian never
appreciated drama, and he ruined everything by waiting for Hayden
in Carl's bedroom.

He raised both his hands, a gesture to signal that he was unarmed.

"You!" Hayden felt an irrational burst of hurt, and he ripped off
the gauze shielding his face but his eyes and unsheathed his blade
in the same heartbeat. "You... knew all along. That's why you
didn't want to know my secrets. You fucking knew them!"

Julian remained stoic as Hayden cut the air near him - if the boy
wanted to scare him, the boy had to do better than some
ninja/samurai shit. "I didn't lie to you," he said, calmly evading
another slash. "And Carl's not here."

"You said you understand, so why the fuck did you betray me?"
Hayden yelled, and in his fury, he slashed carelessly at Julian.
Fatal flaw - Julian not only evaded that, he managed to pull his
weapon out of his inside jacket pocket and pressed it at Hayden's
forehead. "I hate you! You are just like the rest of them!"

"I know that once your fury is gone, you will have no reason left
to live. And you will never find the strength to kill yourself. I
have been there, Hayden, and I know what it feels like," Julian
said urgently, hoping that the boy would listen for once. "I was a
ghost before I met Kane, and I couldn't find the courage to die,
and it was worse than the pain you are feeling now."

"So what are you fucking bullshitting? Time heals all wounds?
Shaun's dead! He's dead!" Hayden said furiously, and if his vision
blurred from his tears, he didn't dare wipe away - his blade
pressed against Julian's neck even as Julian pressed his weapon at
Hayden's forehead. "You want me to love again? Maybe you expect me
to get a dog while I'm at it?"

"Stop this, and come home with me," Julian told him. "I'll help
you, Hayden. I'll even train you as my apprentice if that's what
you want, and you know I won't judge you on your past actions."

"I don't want - " Hayden shook his head angrily. "I just want - "

Julian watched as the other man struggled with the realization
that Hayden had lived so long in hate, he no longer had any idea
what he wanted. "Shaun's dead, Hayden," he told the other man
gently, "and nothing you can do can bring him back."

"Actually, I'm still alive." Julian turned just as the man - Shaun
Benson - walked into the room. "Hello, Hayden," Shaun said,
ignoring Julian, his eyes only on Hayden who had dropped his blade
in his shock. "I'm sorry I took so long to come back." And this
time, Shaun's fa‡ade cracked, and a stray tear rolled down his
left cheek. "And I'm sorry I caused this mess."

"You're alive," Hayden just whispered, and in that instant, the
lost and bewildered boy in him surfaced, as he took three strides
to Shaun. He touched Shaun's cheek with his shaking hand, and then
his voice broke. "You're alive," he repeated in his shaky, boyish
tenor. "Oh Shaun."

"Will you believe that I was unconscious in a hospital in England
all this while?" Shaun said in tenderness/barely-controlled
emotions. "I wanted to die, so I did. And I was so fucked up,
because I should have come back instead of dying. You lived for
me, Hayden, while I was a fucking coward who just wanted to escape
the pain. Will you ever forgive me?"

"I do," Hayden just said. "I don't care. Maybe we can now get an
apartment together, you and me?" he asked, "and we can... we
can..." He pushed himself slightly from Shaun's embrace. "Your
father."

"Forget him. He doesn't matter anymore."

"No," Hayden snapped. "He put me there, Shaun, and the people in
that place used me like a fucking toilet. Every time, every
fucking day, they would use me, and they even took knives to carve
up my body. Oh, but they left my pretty face intact, because I'm
their bitch, and I must remain pretty," he screamed.

"Hayden, no," Shaun pleaded, trying to keep Hayden in his arms,
but Hayden was too strong.

"I must kill him. I'll..."

"His weakest point is me," Shaun shouted finally.

That caused Hayden to stop struggling when nothing could. "If you
want to hurt him the most, kill me," Shaun said. "I'm his most
important object, ornament, or whatever the fuck you want to call
me."

Hayden only could stare at Shaun in stunned horror. "You're
defending him now too?" he asked finally, his posture one of
defeat.

"No, never," Shaun told him. "All I want is another chance,
Hayden. Let me be the man you deserve to have - "

"But you are perfect - "

"No," Shaun corrected him. "I was a coward. I walked away from you
because I was afraid that my father would disown me. I've wronged
you, Hayden, so badly, that I can never forgive myself. But let me
make it up to you, love. Stop this and let's just go to somewhere
new and we can start all over again."

Julian quietly took aim at the back of Hayden's head.

"Even if you can forgive him, I can't," Hayden whispered. "I have
to live with the nightmares, Shaun, and I won't stop until I see
him dead."

Shaun looked away, closing his eyes but still, more tears escaped.
"Then I'm sorry I can't make this right."

"No!" Julian shouted, but he couldn't move that fast. He was too
far, and Shaun was too close to Hayden. And Hayden didn't fight
Shaun. If he didn't have the courage to end his own life, he
didn't lack any to meet it at someone's hand. His lips actually
curled upwards, in a small smile, as Shaun stabbed the other man
in the stomach.

Hayden fell, silent except for his breathing, shallow and more
labored as his life spilled onto the floor. Shaun looked at the
blade in his hand, staring numbly at the bloody blade. And Julian
turned away as Shaun joined his lost love on the floor with one
swift plunge of the blade.

And the night was peaceful, silent, mocking Julian as the man fell
onto a sitting position on the carpet. And he watched as blood
seeped from the bodies of the two men across the room towards him.
Only when the red mocking stain reached his feet did he finally
broke down and sobbed into his hands.





EPILOGUE

A letter from Shawn, dated 07/11/04:

My dearest Michael,

I hope that physical - occupational - what the fuck that therapy
is called, I hope it is going well. When you were in those dark
moods, refusing calls and letters from anyone, I managed to get a
reply from Cuba. You're a fucking lucky bastard you have that guy,
and I told you he would stick around and he did, didn't he?

If you are disappointed that I didn't die after the drama of that
night one and a half years ago, oh, I'm sorry. I was never good at
killing people, including myself. I know you don't want to hear
about him too, but yeah, he still have nightmares, but he'll be
okay. I'm not too sure of how or where we will be next week, next
year, or next decade, but I think we will take it slow one day at
a time. I'm not too good at responsibilities, but I'm learning and
trying, and it's best I take it at my own pace.

I guess too that many people will be angry that we didn't meet the
bad ends we deserve. You too perhaps, ha, ha. I'll just say "fuck
it", I mean, who says life is fair? If life is fair, I'll never
get a second chance with Hayden, and yeah, I do love that gloomy,
too serious bastard a lot. Why else do you think I'm getting my
hands callused and dirty cleaning the corridors and toilets of
this fucking grade school in backward Ireland. He, by the way, is
having a ball teaching the kids art and mathematics, so well that
they are thinking of making him a permanent staff despite his age
and maybe fudge around a little to give him a qualified teacher's
pay. It must be love if I can still go home with him happy and
content.

Hey, if I'm rambling non-stop about myself, that's because we
haven't talked to each other after That Day. If you will get your
head out of your self-pitying ass, say hi to me. Hell, hate me for
your legs, anything. It'll be nice to hear from the monkey boy all
over again.

S.





Michael frowned at the screen of his laptop. He hesitated, turning
to watch a sleeping Cuba, before reaching for his crutches. He
slowly made his way across the bedroom to the far fireplace, where
stood a framed photo of Monkey Boy and the Class Clown during the
summer of '96, during a fishing trip off the coast of Maui.

They were so young and foolish then.

His legs hurt, although it was a numbed sensation of pain that no
longer bothered him as much as it did a few months ago.

He made his way back to his desk and sat down to compose a long
reply to his friend.