Where We Belong

Authors:    angelspike69 and anamcara420

Rating:    Adult.  This story contains M/M sex.  If that isn't your cup of tea then go away now and don't read any farther.

Disclaimer:    Unfortunately, Angel and Spike don't belong to us.  If they did, they'd be following up all their fighting and snarking with each other with lots of manly shagging.

Spoilers:    None, unless you haven't seen Angel the Series at all.  This story goes totally AU after the screen darkened in "Not Fade Away" and Angel utters those immortal words: "Let's go to work."

Feedback:    AngelSpike69 (marinersgal69@msn.com) and Anamcara420 (ldelrossi@excite.com)

Notes:    Would like to extend our sincere thanks to <lj user="makd"> for her beta of the story.  You are the best sweetie!!!!!

Summary:    What became of our two souled vamps.  Did they die, did they survive to carry on the fight another day, or did one of them shanshu?

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~Part: 1~

“Let’s get to work.”

Angel, Spike and Illyria strode toward the demon hordes, brandishing their swords. Gunn’s wounds, like Wesley’s, were mortal and he fell after a few moments. When Illyria turned to him, the dragon swooped up past Angel and flew down to the ancient god and bit her in two. Angel spun around and pierced the dragon’s neck, its only vulnerable area. It shuddered and its wings fluttered ever more slowly until it careened over the fence behind Angel and Spike. It crashed to the ground in a burst of flames and disintegrated. The alley was suddenly silent. Angel quickly turned back around. The remaining demons stood unmoving for a long moment and then a deafening keening erupted. A lightning strike brightened the alley for a minute and then everything went dark.

The vampires felt a hovering presence but could see nothing clearly, despite their vampiric eyesight. A cold fog enveloped them and they collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

“We’re gonna miss the sodding plane, Kat!”

“God Will, I can’t find the tickets!”

“Bloody hell luv, they’re in my pocket. Now come on!”

Kat and William hurried into the hall clutching their carry-on bags. The concierge had taken their large suitcases down earlier. As they exited the elevator into the lobby, the bellman, Nate, motioned to them. He had a taxi waiting with their luggage already loaded.

William handed him an envelope. “Not sure when we’ll be back. Keep an eye, OK?

Nate ginned. “Sure thing, sir. Can’t wait to see your book up on the big screen.”

Will shook his head. “May never get there at the rate the studio is moving!”

Kat shouted from inside the cab. “Come on Will!”

Will nodded his thanks and hopped into the cab.

Kat and William settled into their first-class seats. She immediately put on her headphones, a sleeping mask and zoned-out. He closed his eyes but his thoughts tumbled wildly in his mind. Two directors had already quit the film. Will didn’t recognize the story after the guy they brought in to “fine tune” the script was finished. His lawyer – Matt – had flown out and made lawyerly waves. A new director, a guy named Whedon, had requested a meeting in San Francisco, not Los Angeles. Apparently Whedon’s good friend was a professor at a film school, the Academy of Arts University. He still wasn’t sure what that was about, but Matt assured him that Joss Whedon was excited about making the movie and seemed to understand exactly what Will was trying to do with his character in the book. The graduate film students were full of creative ideas. He sighed. He knew vampire movies were considered schlock horror fests, but his book was about a vampire that straddled the demon and human worlds. His character – Angel – had a soul for God’s sake! He was kind of like Blade, but not as angry or violent.

He liked the idea of getting out of New York. Christmas on the West Coast meant that he could beg off the huge multi-generational house party at Kat’s grandfather’s estate in the Hamptons. It would be a quiet holiday in a somewhat warmer climate.

Will’s family was dead and when he awoke in a hospital in Los Angeles two years ago, he wasn’t sure what he was doing in California. He was brought into the hospital unconscious. The only thing he had left from his previous life was a black leather duster, which had numerous tears that matched the stab wounds in his body. He knew his name was William Tennyson, he was English and he liked to scribble, but what he had done for work was a total blank. His doctor wanted him to put his picture on television to see if someone could identify him, but he refused. He kind of liked the idea of starting fresh.

Dr. Adams had a friend, a lawyer, who gave him a job in his office and advanced him two weeks’ salary so he could find a room to live in temporarily. He enjoyed working in the law office. There were lots of interesting people that gave him ideas for characters in his stories; although they usually wound up as various kinds of demons since fantasy was his favorite genre.

A few months after beginning his job at the law office, William rented a small furnished apartment. As he unpacked his meager belongings he found the leather duster in the bottom of a box. On a whim he tried it on. Suddenly a kaleidoscope of scenes invaded his mind. He was in the past, the Victorian London of his novel. He was sneaking through the streets with another man who was tall and dark. He followed a young woman into an alley and pressed her against the stone wall. She struggled but he held his hand over her mouth and kissed her neck. When he let her go she fell into a heap on the pavement. He turned to smile at the other man and his lips were smeared with blood. He was a vampire! When he removed the coat, the vision stopped. Briefly shaken, he forced his mind to rationalize what happened. He was certain the images were percolating ideas for his next vampire novel, but he quickly return the coat to the box and thrust it far back into the closet.

He began submitting stories to magazines and several were accepted. He realized that New York City was the publishing capital in the U.S., so that’s where he moved after he accumulated a bit of savings. His former boss gave him Matt’s name and the young lawyer invited him to stay with him till he got on his feet. He would be eternally grateful to all of those who helped him start his new life. He dedicated his first novel to Dr. Adams, Bill Knightly – the senior partner in the law firm, Matt, and Matt’s sister - Mary – who got him a job in the publishing company where she worked.

William caught the eye of Katherine Porter – Kat - the granddaughter of the publisher and they began to date. He continued to write on his own. He let Kat read the first few chapters of his novel. She secretly made a copy and brought it to her grandfather. The novel was published and soon became a best-seller.

One evening William was walking alone on the streets of New York when a window display stopped him. A mannequin was modeling a beautiful black leather duster. Intrigued he went into the store. He tried on the coat; the feel of the buttery soft black leather compelled him to buy it – along with encouragement by the handsome, obviously gay salesman. He felt he could “take on the world” when he wore it. Kat didn’t like the coat, so he only wore it when he was out without her. When he wore it out one night with his work friends, several of the other young women told him he looked sexy. Kat said he looked either effeminate or criminal in it.

William sighed at the barrage of thoughts intruding on his peace. He should be thinking of the future. He was returning to California because his book had been optioned for a movie and Matt promised that he would like the young and enthusiastic new director.

He looked over at Kat sleeping in the seat next to him. He owed her a lot. He knew that it was due to her that his novel was published. He also knew she was in love with him. Although he liked her very much and they had a satisfactory sex life, William felt something was missing, although he wasn’t sure what.

The limo was waiting when they deplaned and Will and Kat arrived at the Fairmount Hotel around noon California time. After they settled into their suite, Kat ordered room service but Will had been cooped up for too long. He left the room and went up to the rooftop bar. It had an outside veranda with a beautiful view of the city. He sat at a table in the far corner, ordered a glass of red wine and felt his frenetic East Coast persona evaporating a bit.

“Thanks Mr. Martin, I hope Mrs. Martin likes it.” Liam smiled at the old man. Patrick had told him that the man came into the gallery twice a year and almost always bought a painting, usually landscapes. Liam sometimes painted beachscapes – a beach, rocky cliffs, a lighthouse – but portraits were his passion.

Over the past few weeks, Mr. Martin had come into the gallery several times to stand in front of a particular portrait. It was a sketch of two young men, one tall, dark and muscular; the other slight and light-haired. They were dressed in Victorian era clothing – ruffled shirts and dark cloaks - and standing in an alley. He had used shades of gray, black, and streaks of purple over the black pencil sketch to give a feeling of a gloomy, foggy night. The images had come to Liam in a strange dream. He had no idea from where although they seemed to be familiar, which was impossible. Their skin tone was very pale, almost as if they were lit with a hidden light. He had not seen their faces clearly in his dream and he left them indistinct. Mr. Martin said that his wife loved to read books set in the past, especially murder mysteries and stories about vampires, whom she thought were tragic romantic characters. He knew the painting would appeal to her.

Vampires?! When he had first shown his mentor and the gallery owner – Patrick Fitzgerald – the sketches, the man told him they were scenes from London. Liam was shocked. He had never been to England and certainly not London in the nineteenth century. He checked some books in the library and it was eerie how accurately he rendered the scenes and the clothing.

Two years ago, he had awakened in a hospital in Los Angeles. He knew his name – Liam McKenna – but he didn’t know why he was in Southern California. He searched the newspapers and the police stations, but no one had reported a young man missing. The police contacted their counterparts in Boston and Chicago – cities with large Irish populations – to no avail. He refused to put his picture on television as the head nurse had suggested. If there were any friends or family, they would have been looking for him and would have filed a missing persons report.

He decided to go north to San Francisco and begin his life again, sort of starting over fresh. For a while, he lived in a shelter and drew portraits of passersby while he sold sketches from the sidewalk. Patrick walked by one day and Liam sketched his likeness. The man was impressed. He came back to Liam’s space for the next few days, standing in the background watching him work. Liam saw him but the gallery owner just smiled and nodded. Finally he approached Liam and offered him a job.

When he learned where Liam lived, he immediately offered him the use of the apartment and studio above the shop. Patrick confided that his previous tenant, a young artist that he had sponsored, had recently died of AIDS before he could achieve much success. Liam was overwhelmed and immediately agreed to the job, but hesitated about the apartment. He made it very clear to the gay man that he was heterosexual.

Liam talked to several of his fellow artists. Most knew of Patrick and were envious that he had chosen Liam.

“He’s rich and a frustrated artist. He chooses someone he thinks has promise and becomes their patron. You know, like they did in medieval times.” Torah told him.

“Will he…um…” Liam stammered.

Torah laughed. “You told him you weren’t gay. He’ll accept that. Besides he always has these wealthy boyfriends. Go for it Liam. From what I hear, he’s fair and generous, sort of like one of those fictional guardian angel types.”

Liam found Cairdeas Gallery and went inside. Patrick was talking to a customer so Liam walked around the room. The gallery was eclectic – paintings, sculptures, woodcarvings, woven rugs and wall hangings.

They agreed on terms – the percentage that the gallery owner would take from the sale of Liam’s paintings and the rent for the apartment and studio. Patrick took his new protégé upstairs. Liam stood with his mouth open. It was beautiful!

“It’s a bit bare now, but you’ll make it yours quickly. Let’s go up to the studio.” Patrick said smiling at Liam’s stunned expression. Again the young artist was speechless. The studio took up the entire third floor – two walls and half the ceiling were glass. There were canvases, easels, cabinets, counters and a sink – everything an artist would need.

“This…this is unbelievable Patrick. Did I die? Is this heaven?” Liam said looking over at his benefactor.

Patrick smiled. “Liam, you have a gift. Your pencil sketches are excellent and the few watercolors I’ve seen hold great promise. The one in the darker colors is…it’s riveting. We will both benefit from this arrangement.”

Liam had carried his meager belongings in a backpack and an old canvas bag held his sketchbooks, pencils and paints. He left a few things in the studio, dropped his backpack in the apartment and followed Patrick downstairs to the gallery. The older man was explaining his responsibilities and duties when the shop door opened. A young woman he had sketched while he was on the street had showed his drawing to her father. He located Liam at Patrick’s gallery and commissioned a portrait of his daughter, Norah. Patrick handled the financial arrangements and the man signed a contract, left his card and asked Liam to call his wife and daughter for an appointment. They shook hands and the man left.

Patrick put his hands on Liam’s shoulders and looked into the artist’s deep brown eyes. “See. This is the beginning. That man is Lawrence Scanlon. He owns a huge real estate company. There will be many more commissions Liam, once his friends see your work.”

Liam couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t believe his life had changed so drastically so quickly. It pushed any niggling thoughts of his forgotten past far into the recesses of his mind.

Patrick was right. Liam received several more commissions and Norah brought friends into the gallery. She came in alone one day and asked him to be her date for a charity ball and they had been dating for almost a year.

Liam was happy in his new apartment and studio. He worked well in the large and bright space. The rent was a fraction of what a similar space would be elsewhere in San Francisco. It was convenient most times but sometimes it was hell when Patrick was around too much. Thank God Patrick had a new boyfriend, an older, extremely wealthy lawyer with homes around the world. Hopefully Patrick and Henry would travel a lot and he could run the gallery without interference.

Liam glanced over at the now empty space on the wall and thought of the six sketches he had done of the young men from his dream. Four of them had sold very quickly. One of the remaining two embarrassed him. He had drawn the men, trousers down, as they thrust into half naked women against an alley wall. He had never done anything so erotic. He covered the painting and hid it in the back room. Patrick discovered it and immediately phoned one of his wealthy gay friends who willingly paid an exorbitant price for it. Liam was furious. It was not the first time Patrick had sold one of his paintings without his permission.

The gallery owner had found a somewhat provocative sketch of Norah lying partially undressed on a sofa and sold it before Liam could tell him it wasn’t for sale. Liam begged the buyer to sell it back to him, but the man refused. Liam was terrified that Norah’s father would see it, but the man promised that it would remain in his bedroom, not prominently displayed.

Even though he knew Patrick wanted to help him become a successful artist, he and his patron had fought bitterly over Norah’s portrait and the young painter threatened to fire him as his representative. The older man placated him, gave him a generous advance on his next sale, and stayed away from the gallery for a few days. From then on, Liam was careful to hide the paintings he didn’t want Patrick to sell.

Norah had been furious with him because of the painting. She hadn’t posed half undressed. Liam had sketched her as she slept in his apartment. They had almost broken up over it, but Patrick somehow smoothed things over with her. Still, Liam felt his now fractured relationship with her was poorly healed.

A few months after Patrick had sold the suggestive painting of the young men, the buyer called to speak with Liam; he had what he hoped would be received as good news. He had referred him for a movie commission. His partner had seen Liam’s painting and he believed that Liam could create the perfect drawings for the sets of a movie. The man was a professor at the Academy of Arts University.

He wanted to have his senior students involved in a film as part of their thesis projects. Fortunately an L.A. director would be spending two semesters at the college as a visiting professor. The students would be working with the director on a vampire movie based on a best-selling novel. All of the students were familiar with the book; they read it enthusiastically. Apparently the author was unhappy with what the L.A. directors were doing to his book and somehow his lawyer got it away from the studio that had the rights. The new director, Joss Whedon, had worked in television and film, frequently in the “otherworldly” genre.

Liam read the book then did quite a few sketches to show the author when he came in from the East Coast. He enjoyed the book; the main character was intriguing, a sort of hero-anti-hero vampire. Oddly, Liam thought that he had known someone like that in his past; not a vampire surely, but someone who had been heroic. The empty spaces in his memories were often unsettling; the strange twinges of familiarity were more frightening. The phone rang, interrupting his reverie.

“Cairdeas Gallery. Hi Patrick. Yes, the sketches are ready. Tomorrow at the school. Right. I’ll be there. I’m not nervous. OK, yes I am. This is new for me and I really don’t think they’re what he wants. Patrick, I said I’d be there. Oh, and you are buying me dinner after this at Chez Panisse.”

Liam hung up the phone and went upstairs to his apartment. He walked over to his dresser and opened the drawer. He reached way in the back for the small plastic bag he had placed in there. The nurses told him he had been wearing a silver ring when he was brought into the hospital. They took it off his hand and saved it for him. He knew somehow that it was a Claddagh ring from Ireland. He didn’t wear it but kept it wrapped in his few belongings and had forgotten about it until now.

He opened the bag and dropped the ring into his hand. Images crashed into his mind. Two beautiful blonde women. One was standing in an alley dressed in old- fashioned clothes - a bouffant gown with a very low décolletage. The other woman wore modern clothes and looked much younger – a small and fragile teenager. She was sitting, leaning against a tombstone, holding hands with a dark-haired man who was turned slightly to face her. When the young man turned around and rested his head against the stone Liam gasped. He was the man! He felt a little anxious by the sudden visions and he put the ring back into the bag and returned it to the drawer.

He was confused by what he felt were memories of some sort. He opened a bottle of wine, filled a glass and took it out onto his small balcony, thoughts of the women haunting him. The clothing of the first woman was similar to that of the two men in his dream. Perhaps the other young woman had been his girlfriend before he was hurt. But then why had she not searched for him? The images increased his already anxious state.

He was worried about his sketches for the film. He had no background or training in set design. He was not used to sketching images from his dreams. When he painted portraits, the face had to be recognizable as the client. He might sometimes be creative with the setting or the background, but the face had to be the person. He had heard about difficult, demanding writers and filmmakers. He wasn’t certain his rather fragile ego could stand too much criticism. Without noticing, he drank the entire bottle of wine. Suddenly the alcohol flooded his head. He staggered into the apartment, fell onto the bed fully clothed and fell asleep without setting his alarm.

William’s cell phone rang startling his peace. It was Kat demanding dinner. He stood up and went to the room to freshen up before they went down into the sumptuous dining room of the hotel. He stood in the bathroom staring into the mirror. Matt had told him that the professor who was working with the director had found an artist whose drawings for the sets would be perfect. He snorted. An artist from sunny California who could capture the foggy, dangerous streets of Victorian London and the night stalkers who preyed on the unwary? Not bloody likely! Probably a blonde surfer dude whose vocabulary consisted of terms like far out and wasted!

Liam woke up with a start disoriented from another strange dream. He had gotten off an elevator and met two men in the lobby of a sleekly modern building. One man was tall and coffee-colored; the other was thin and white, wearing gold wire rimmed glasses. He strode through the lobby and opened both doors of an office. A small young woman was perched on a huge desk holding an apple out to him. Rousing himself, he heard loud pounding and someone calling his name. He looked at the clock. He had overslept and was already late for his meeting with the author. Cursing he jumped out of bed and hurried to open the door. Patrick was standing there, his anger etched in red on his face.

“What happened? You’re already late! Are you trying to sabotage yourself?”

“I’m sorry Patrick. I drank too much wine last night because I was nervous and fell asleep without setting the alarm. Let me clean up and change and we can go.” Liam was already unbuttoning his shirt and walking into the bathroom as he was speaking to his boss.

“This does not bode well Liam. The author is already in high dudgeon because the other studio really fucked up his book and my friend told me he’s not thrilled that the new director is using graduate students instead of professionals.” Patrick shouted through the door.

A few minutes later, Patrick drove Liam to the school since his own old car wasn’t currently running. Patrick dropped him off and went to visit a friend in Berkeley. Liam would be more than two hours late. When he entered the large amphitheatre-like classroom where the meeting was being held, all eyes swiveled toward him.

Liam blushed furiously and spoke quietly. “I’m really sorry. I…I was ill this morning.”

A light-haired young man dressed all in black looked up and his face paled. He stood and walked toward the artist. Liam gasped. The man was slightly built and had a thin face and sharp cheekbones – just like one of the men in his dream.

William turned to face the young man when he entered the room. He started when he looked at him. He looked so familiar – God – he looked so much like the man in the images he saw when he had put on his old torn duster. He stood up and strode toward the man who stared at him in confusion.

Holding out his hand, he smiled. “Hi, my name is William Tennyson. Restless Soul is my novel. Your sketches are exactly what I had in mind.”

Flustered at first, Liam just nodded and swallowed. He pulled himself together and spoke. “Mr. Tennyson, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve read your book. It is a different sort of vampire story. The audience will be surprised at the character.”

The man stared intently at the gorgeous man before him. “Have you ever acted?”

“Huh? Uh no, never.” Liam stammered. The author’s sincere smile relaxed the nervous young man a little bit and he returned the smile tentatively as a flush crept up his neck.

William felt warmth suffuse through his body as he stared at the young man. He would have made a perfect Angel – brooding brow above deep-set brown eyes; softly curling dark hair framing a beautiful face. Liam returned William’s penetrating glance and the two men stood lost in each other’s eyes.

“Ahem.”

William and Liam were still clutching hands. They dropped them quickly. The artist’s blush deepened.

A small man dressed rather carelessly walked toward them offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Joss. The sketches I’ve seen hold promise and William is quite determined to use them.”

“I’ve…I’ve brought several more sketches for you to study.” Liam answered softly.

“If they’re anything like the painting Jeremy showed me, the drawings will be perfect.” William smiled again at the embarrassed young artist. “After we’re finished here, could we meet privately over dinner – to talk about my vision for the character?”

Liam visibly stiffened. “Um…I’m…I’m sorry. I have a charity thing tonight. It’s been planned for months. A few of my sketches and watercolors are being auctioned and I promised to meet with the buyers.”

“That’s OK. We’ll meet another time.” William smiled and he and Joss turned to walk back over to the others. Liam followed; worried that everyone could see him trembling.

After he was introduced, he found a seat off by himself as the meeting went on. It was obvious by the conversations that the director’s set design team was not thrilled to have him around. They kept showing William other sketches; talking about their ideas. The author was adamant. He liked Liam’s drawings.

William was getting annoyed. “Look, Liam’s sketches are perfect. He caught the combination of power and loneliness that I wanted in Angel.”

He knew he was being a prima donna, but Liam’s sketches grabbed him and the man himself drew him in. He felt some strange connection with the artist and he wanted to explore it further.

~Part: 2~

Liam stood uncomfortably in his tux. God, how he hated these things. He was never good at small talk. Every time Norah asked him to accompany her he wanted to say no, but he never could.

“Hi Liam.”

Liam spun around. William was standing there, looking really good in his tux and grinning at him.

“Um…hi…how did you…” The young artist blushed furiously at his inability to make conversation.

William smiled brilliantly. “I found out what charity function was on tonight and a friend of a friend offered tickets provided I would bring signed copies of my book to auction.”

Liam stared at the author intently for a moment and then frowned.

William noticed. “Something wrong? I didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“What…oh no.” Liam took a breath and spoke quietly. “This is going to sound very weird, but you seem so familiar to me. I feel that we’ve met before.”

William nodded, smiling. “It is weird because I have the same feeling about you. Felt it the moment we met.”

The two men walked to the side of the large room and found an empty table. For the next hour they shared the stories of their amnesia and all that had happened to them since.

“It’s strange that our experiences are so similar – karma? I knew your sketches were perfect!” William gushed.

“Thank you. I really felt your character. I knew him by the end of the book.” Liam replied. He had been studying the author’s face as they talked. He would love to sketch William – his sharp cheekbones, expressive blue eyes and impish grin. He had an extremely sensual face.

“Will, I’ve been searching for you. Why aren’t you mingling?” Kat demanded in a strident voice.

“Sorry, luv. Liam and I have found…”

The young woman interrupted. “Later. Now come on. I have to introduce you to some people that grandfather knows.”

Liam watched this exchange and saw William’s face flush and hurried to smooth things over. “William, we’ll be working together a lot. We’ll have lots more time to talk.”

The author turned and Liam saw that his lips were pinched and his sharp cheekbones were almost white, he was holding himself so stiffly. His amazingly blue eyes were hard. William turned around and allowed the woman to lead him away. Shortly after, the bidding began and Liam had to go to meet the buyers who bought his paintings. He looked and saw William on the other side of the room, smiling and signing copies of his book. He felt comfortable but also a bit unsettled in William’s company; the similarities in their recent lives were very strange. He didn’t much like William’s girlfriend. She was controlling, just as Norah was sometimes.

His girlfriend was not here tonight. She suffered from migraines and had an attack late this afternoon. She was furious since she was one of the organizers of the event and that only made the headache worse. Liam felt a bit evil because he was a little glad that she wasn’t here to drag him around like William’s girlfriend was doing. As soon as he met with all the buyers, he quietly sneaked out while Patrick was occupied with very rich clients.

He walked back to the gallery. William’s face kept barging into his thoughts as he walked home but Liam kept pushing him away. He was exhausted when he reached his apartment. He tore off his clothes and flopped on his bed falling into a fitful sleep. His dreams were full of William and him in Victorian London. They prowled at night and attacked young women draining them of their blood. Suddenly that image faded and Liam saw himself brandishing a sword, walking purposefully in underground tunnel followed by a beautiful dark-haired girl and the two men from his other dream.

Liam woke in a cold sweat before dawn, even more exhausted than when he went to bed. He got up and made himself some tea. He sat on his little balcony working on more sketches for the sets. But all he could see was William. He gave up after a while, showered and went downstairs to do some housekeeping in the workroom of the gallery, trying to force William from his mind.

For the next few days William saw nothing of Liam. He had to spend a lot of time with the assistant screenwriter reworking the script. The writer, Colin, was a student at the university. The young man was from New Jersey and he and William talked about books, films and great music venues on the east coast as they worked. Apparently the young man was a horror movie junkie and he had many ideas to offer. Colin was also the assistant cinematographer, and William was fascinated to learn how scenes were set up and shot. All of the students were enthusiastic and determined to make the film a success.

On a negative note, the director had no respect for personal life. He kept them until the wee hours of the morning. William could have gone back to the hotel but he was interested in the filmmaking process and hung around much to Kat’s annoyance. Joss was willing to listen to his ideas and the students were eager to learn. It was obvious they were impressed with William. At twenty-four he had a best selling novel and what they believed would be a hit movie. He spoke to a screenwriting class about his writing and the process just before the school closed for the holidays. Those working on the film would get only a brief break. The pace was frenetic until two days before Christmas when everything shut down.

William left the school and instead of going back to the hotel, he took a cab to Cairdeas Gallery where Liam worked. He stood outside for a few moments watching as the artist spoke with a customer. He listened intently as the client was speaking and then drew the man to several watercolors on the wall. Liam nodded to the man and walked back to the counter, allowing him to browse in peace. William smiled to himself. Liam was an artist, not a salesman. On the other hand, too much pressure could backfire.

The man turned and Liam walked over, apparently answering questions. He smiled and took the painting off the wall. Obviously he had made the sale. The man stood at the counter as Liam processed the credit card. William opened the door and went inside. Liam looked up with a smile that faltered a bit when he saw whom it was.

Disappointed slightly at the artist’s expression, he just nodded and strolled around the gallery. There were several small sculptures that Kat might like and quite a few good oil paintings, but he was immediately drawn to the watercolors. His breath hitched as he noticed one in particular. It was a stormy sea and sky – all shades of gray, purples and dark blues. Only the waves crashing against the black rocks and wet sand were white. He was amazed at the artist’s ability to create such power and beauty using dark colors. He glanced at the name in the lower corner. It was Liam’s!

William had never bought a painting. He had never had the money or inclination before, but he had to have this. Already the scene was inspiring ideas for a gothic novel set in the Hebrides of Scotland. He felt someone beside him. He turned and smiled at Liam who returned the smile tentatively.

“So what does Cair… what does the gallery name mean then?” William asked.

“It’s pronounced kardas. It’s Irish for friendship.” Liam smiled.

The author nodded. “Ah. Stumped for a Christmas gift for Kat. Thought I might find something unusual here. Bird has everything. Does have a thing for sailboats.”

“Bird, huh?” Liam grinned.

“Slang for girl.” William returned the grin.

“Oh, I know. Someone I knew in my past must have been English because I understood when you said it.”

“Weird huh? Me too. Snatches of the past flit to the front of my brain occasionally.” William smirked.

“That painting that you were looking at…” Liam began.

William interrupted. “I want that one for myself.” He paused and spoke quietly. “Liam, like those sketches you did for the film, that painting has a combination of raw power tempered with fragile beauty. It’s amazing, pet.”

Liam stood perfectly still as he stared into William’s brilliant blue eyes and then his mouth twitched and he quirked one eyebrow. “Pet?”

William blushed slightly but smirked. “Another Englishism. Should I channel California speak and say dude?”

Liam laughed out loud at the thought of William using surfer slang.

“What time do you close?” The author inquired.

“Tonight? At nine.”

“Have you had dinner?” When Liam shook his head, William continued hurriedly. “Join me for a burger and beer then?”

Liam paused and William held his breath and released it when the artist smiled slightly. “I can lock up in fifteen minutes. Is that OK?”

“Sure thing dude…and I want that painting.”

Liam laughed again at William’s attempt at American slang. He looked at the author intently. “You don’t have to buy it because…”

William interrupted again. “Listen, pet.” He stopped and wiggled his eyebrows. “Never do anything I don’t want to do.” Kat appeared in his mind and he thought to himself. Well almost never.

Liam smiled broadly and William felt his heart jump. “Are your pets required to purr or…” He stopped and blushed furiously. “Oh, I didn’t…that didn’t…”

William laughed and put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Forget it. You’d be surprised how many people get flustered when I call them pet or luv. Sometime I do it on purpose. Gives me a sense of power – especially with women.” He quirked his scarred eyebrow and both of them laughed.

Liam took the painting off the wall and went into the back to wrap it up. A short while later the two men walked a few blocks to a neighborhood bar. The older woman behind the bar called out when they walked in. “Hey Liam. Been awhile.”

“Hey Dolores. Been busy.” Liam responded as he and William found a booth.

The woman limped over. She was huge – at least six feet tall with shoulders that a footballer would envy.

“Dolores, this is William Tennyson. He’s a writer.” Liam introduced.

The woman stared at the man for a moment and then her eyes widened in surprise. “You wrote Restless Soul! I loved that book. I just wanted to wrap my arms around that Angel. Maternally, of course.” She winked and the two men grinned at her broad smiling face. They gave their order and the woman limped back toward the kitchen.

“I guess I’m sitting with a real celebrity.” Liam said with a smirk. “Dolores loves vampire books. I think she has Dracula and Interview with a Vampire memorized. Now she’s reading a series by Tanya Huff about a female private detective and a vampire who’s the bastard son of Henry VIII.” He looked a bit sheepish and hurried on. “I’ve picked up a few for her at Barnes and Noble. She’s a good friend.”

A young waiter brought over their beers.

“How’d she hurt her leg?” William asked.

“Her husband was a fisherman down the coast. The two of them were out alone on his boat and there was an explosion. He died and she lost part of her leg. Her daughter and grandkids live here so she came to recuperate. Decided to stay and bought this place.” Liam paused and smiled mischievously. “How old do you think she is?”

William looked at the dark-haired woman laughing with one of her customers at the bar. “Fifties?”

Liam grinned. “She just turned seventy. She has more energy than I have.”

William’s eyes had widened and he watched Dolores moving down the bar, talking to everyone. “You come here often?”

“Yeah. Dolores volunteers at the homeless shelter nearby where I lived when I first came to San Francisco. She saw me sketching and asked me to paint her two granddaughters. It’s over there.” Liam nodded to the far wall.

William got up and walked over. He stared at the painting for a few minutes and then returned to the booth. “It’s beautiful and they’re beautiful. You are really very good Liam. I’ve never seen a portrait done in watercolors.”

Liam smiled shyly. Dolores brought their meal. William’s eyes grew wide and he looked at the beaming woman. “Dolores. This burger is huge!”

She laughed loudly and patted her ample hips. “Big woman cooks big burgers.”
She left the two young men staring down at their plates.

Liam whispered conspiratorially. “I always take part of it home for a neighbor’s dog.”

“Yeah. Well, he’ll get two dinners tonight.”

As they ate William and Liam talked and talked like old friends– about art, writing, films, New York, California – everything. William told Liam about his fight with Kat. She wanted to go back to New York for Christmas; he wanted to stay in California. He was angry with himself for giving in to her. Liam commiserated and confessed that he really hated the huge gatherings at his girlfriend’s parent’s house for every birthday and holiday, but he always went anyway. The waiter picked up their plates and returned with the remnants of their dinner in plastic containers and they never stopped talking.

Dolores appeared at the table. “It’s one o’clock boys. Have to kick you out.”

“One o’clock! We’ve been here four hours!” Liam exclaimed.

“Yeah and I’ve never seen you talk and laugh so much Liam McKenna.” She turned to the other man in the booth. “William, you’re a good influence on my boy here. Too serious and broody for one so young.”

William grinned up at the woman. “Been told I could make a mummy talk.”

Dolores laughed heartily and winked at a blushing Liam. She left the check and took their glasses.

William reached for the check. “This is my treat Liam. I invited you.”

“No. You bought my painting. At least let’s split it?”

“No. I haven’t been this relaxed for a long time, pet. Only have one bloke as a friend but don’t see him as often as I would like socially.”

Liam gave in smiling.

“What?” William asked when he saw the look on the artist’s face.

“You called me pet again.” Liam answered.

The two men grinned at each other. William paid the bill and left a very large tip. The two young men staggered a bit and left the bar laughing. Dolores watched them go and said a silent prayer that the writer would introduce Liam to new people so the sweet artist could get away from his spoiled girlfriend’s clutches. She sighed and began to lock up.

Liam and William walked back to the gallery.

“I’ll pick the painting up later. I want that blue glass sailboat to give to Kat for Christmas. Do you know the number of a cab company?”

“I’m sorry my old car is out of commission.” Liam replied.

“That’s OK, Liam. We’ve both had a lot to drink. I wouldn’t want a cop to pull us over.”

“I think it’ll be hard to get a cab now.” The artist thought for a moment. “Look, I have a huge couch. Why don’t you stay here? What time do you have to get the plane to go back east?”

“Not until two pm. Kat left this morning – in a pissed-off mood. Not looking forward to facing her again just now.” William answered slowly.

“Stay here. I have to open the gallery at eleven and keep it open until midnight – last minute shoppers Patrick doesn’t want to miss. I’ll wake you up and you can go back to the hotel and then to the airport.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, come on.”

They climbed the outside stairs to Liam’s apartment. William’s mouth dropped open. It was beautiful. The floors were polished hardwood; walls pale ivory. The sofa was red velvet and looked as if it could seat six! An obviously hand-made woven rug lay in front of the sofa. Bookshelves lined one wall and two black leather easy chairs sat in front of them next to an enormous mahogany desk. To one side stood a small dining table and four chairs; a small kitchen took up the other side. Large glass doors opened out onto a small balcony. A cluster of paintings hung on every wall. There was nothing out of place. William visualized the clutter in his own apartment in New York and shuddered.

“William?” He turned to face Liam who motioned for him to follow him into another room. This was the artist’s bedroom. As soon as he walked in he felt peaceful. The walls and drapes were the same pale blue and the bed coverlet and a soft chair in front of the windows were a deeper blue. The huge bed was a four-poster and stood at least a foot off the ground. The rest of the furniture matched the cherry wood of the bed. Paintings of various sizes graced the walls.

“William?” Liam asked again and the author turned. “The bathroom is here. You have to go through my bedroom to get to it, but I’ll leave the door open. There’s a new toothbrush and towels in the cupboard. I’m going to make some chamomile tea. Helps soothe the nerve-endings after a lot of drinking.” He smiled and left the room. William stood for a long moment staring at the bed. A vision flitted through his mind of him and Liam tangled together. Horrified, he forced it away and hurried into the bathroom, removed his shirt and washed up. When he came out he saw that Liam was covering the couch with sheets, pillows and a blanket. William stood there holding his shirt watching as the man smoothed the wrinkles. His cock twitched. Liam had taken off his shirt and shoes and William licked his lips at his powerfully muscular chest and arms. Liam straightened up and spoke. “Find everything?”

“Um, yes, um…look I go commando. Do you have an old pair of boxers I could wear? Don’t want to lie naked on your couch.”

Liam looked at him briefly puzzled and then responded. “Oh…oh sure. Let me get a pair. They’re gonna be way too big for you.”

A few minutes later the artist returned and handed William the underwear. “I’ll wash up and then we can have a cup of tea if you want.”

Liam turned and went into his bedroom closing the door. When he came out William was staring at the rug in front of the sofa. He spoke quietly to his guest. “That’s Arapaho. Their blankets and rugs are always a combination of red, blue, white, yellow and black. I traded one of my paintings for it from a young Native I met in the shelter.”

“It’s magnificent and quite different in design from Navajo rugs that I’ve seen. Liam, your home is a work of art itself.”

Liam smiled shyly. “The furniture is Patrick’s. The artwork is mine.” He turned and walked into the kitchen to make the tea. He handed a cup to William. “Have everything you need?”

William nodded and Liam continued. “I’m really tired – not used to drinking so much. I’ve leave my door slightly open so you can use the bathroom. I’m a pretty heavy sleeper so you don’t have to worry about waking me. Goodnight William.”

He closed the door partway, undressed and got into bed. He leaned back and sipped his tea visualizing William’s defined abs and his muscular arms. For a man so slightly built, his body had a sensual power. Disconcerted at the direction of his thoughts, he got up and stood for a few minutes in front of the open window, breathing in the cool air and pushing thoughts of William away. Finally he went back to bed and lapsed into an unrestful sleep.

William stood in the quiet apartment and let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He turned and walked outside onto the balcony, sipping his tea in the cool night air, willing his hardness away. He’s a bloke for Christ’s sake. What’s wrong with you? You’ve never…you…you aren’t attracted to men. He finished his tea quickly and walked back inside. He lay down on the sofa and moaned as Liam’s scent washed over him. He was embarrassed by the naked images of Liam that stole into his mind. Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep. He awoke a while later to painful hard-on. He looked down and found his hand stroking his cock. He had been dreaming of Liam; of having sex with Liam. Mortified, he jumped up and hurried quietly into the bathroom, closing the door but not putting on the light. He removed the borrowed boxers and leaned against the cool tile wall until he brought himself off. He hadn’t had erotic dreams like this in a long while and they had never been about a man. Embarrassed and furious, he cleaned up the bathroom and himself and tread softly back into the living room. Willing all thoughts of Liam away, he sat waiting for dawn until he fell into a restless sleep.

Liam heard the footsteps and his hand stopped as he stifled a groan. He had awakened a moment earlier to find his cock thrusting up into his hand. He had been dreaming of William; of sex with William! Oh God! Oh God! I’m dreaming about a man! He lay perfectly still biting his lip in discomfort, horrified at what he was thinking and doing. He didn’t move the entire time the man was in the bathroom. He held his breath when the door opened and he felt William’s eyes on him. For a long moment there was no sound and Liam prayed that the man would leave the room quickly.

After what seemed like forever, William left the bedroom and Liam breathed. He stayed quiet for a few moments until the pain in his dick was excruciating. He got out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. The smell of cum assaulted his nose. William had come in to get himself off! After a few more strokes, Liam’s cum spurted into his boxers and he leaned exhausted against the tile wall and sank to the floor. Oh God! What is going on? I’ve never… He pressed his face against the cool tiles forcing every thought of William from his mind. He didn’t know how long he sat. Finally he got up and cleaned himself. He walked naked back into his bedroom for fresh boxers and looked at the clock. It was near eight and the alarm was set for nine. He went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower to as hot as he could stand. He stood for long minutes under the water cascading down his body.

Liam reluctantly turned off the shower and toweled himself. He put on his boxers, brushed his teeth and then went into his bedroom and walked to the closet. It was Christmas Eve and he had to dress well today. He chose black leather slacks and a dark red v-necked sweater. He walked hesitantly into the living room and glanced over at the sofa. William was still asleep, his hand cupping his face as his light brown hair curled against his check. Mentally shaking himself, Liam walked quickly into the kitchen. He put water on for tea and then stood out on the balcony, welcoming the brisk morning air against his flushed skin.

“I’m going to shower, OK?” William called from the living room.

Liam turned and walked inside, his face frozen in a false smile. “Sure. Everything you need is in the cabinets. Do you want breakfast?”

William shivered at the sight of Liam in black leather pants but forced himself to respond in a normal voice. “No thanks. I don’t each much when I fly. I’ll have a cup of tea though.” He nodded toward the whistling kettle and turned to walk into the bathroom, carrying the clothes that he wore the night before.

Liam bit his lips and stalked through the kitchen out onto the balcony. He gripped the railing tightly, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He studied the colors of the morning sky intently refusing to allow any thoughts of last night or William to enter his mind. He fixed the tea, heated a few scones in the microwave and placed them on a plate. He got butter and milk out of the refrigerator and sat down at the table.

William came out fully dressed except for his shoes, walked over and sat down. “Ta mate.” He nodded to Liam as he reached for the tea.

Liam looked up at William and then quickly looked down, noticing the change from pet to mate. He shook himself internally, angry at the slight hurt that pierced his heart.

William sniffed. “Hmmmm, love scones, crunchy and flaky with lots of butter.”

Liam stiffened as he watched William’s mouth move as he described scones. Suddenly he imagined licking butter off the man’s seductive lips and his cock twitched. Stifling a moan he said a bit shakily, “Patrick’s old aunt makes them for us…Um... I’ll call you a cab OK? I have to get down to the gallery. It’s going to be total chaos today with last minute shoppers.”

William relaxed slightly. He needed to get away right now. He stood up and took his tea and his remaining scone out onto the balcony. Liam cleaned up the kitchen and went into the bedroom. He came out shortly to find William still outside. He was sitting with his bare feet propped up on the railing. Liam shuddered at the sight of William’s bare toes on the metal. Feet were a bit of a turn on for him. Grimacing, he forced the upsetting thoughts away and walked to the phone.

“I’ll call for the taxi now, OK?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. Let me get my shoes and we can go downstairs. I have to get my painting and I want that glass sailboat for Kat.”

Liam turned his back to the room so he wouldn’t have to watch his guest put on his shoes.

William stood up and the two men walked down the stairs in silence. Liam opened the door and then rushed into the back room to turn off the alarm. William walked over and picked up the sailboat. He paid and Liam took it into the back to wrap it carefully and put it in a box.

“Cab’s here.” William shouted.

Liam hurried out with both packages and handed them to William. “Thanks for buying the painting and I’m sure Kat will like the boat. Merry Christmas William.”

“Ta. Happy Christmas to you too.” William nodded, left the store and got into the taxi. He didn’t look back or wave.

Liam straightened his shoulders and went back into the empty gallery to wait for the onslaught of harried, cranky last minute shoppers; their chatter and demands would block all thoughts of William.

~Part: 3~

William made his plane and flew back to New York. During the flight, he sat with headphones listening to Mozart as he tried to jot down all of the ideas for a new novel evoked by Liam’s painting. He’d write a few sentences and see Liam in his mind – shirtless, smiling, thoughtful, confused. The man’s face was subtly expressive but his eyes were truly windows into his soul.

What was it about Liam that haunted him? He’d never been attracted to a man – at least not since he awoke two years ago. Could he have been involved with a man before his accident? He didn’t believe that. He liked women – a lot. He liked sex with women. Well he only had sex with one woman before Kat – at least in this consciousness. Is that why? Was he bored with Kat? Their lovemaking was adequate but not mind-blowing. Is that it? Was he looking for something exciting, dangerous?

William gave up trying to write. He drank several whiskeys to deaden his thoughts and vegged out in front of the vacuous in-flight movie. He was tired and drunk when the plane landed. He took a cab back to his apartment and collapsed fully clothed on the bed. The phone’s jangling woke him from more troubling dreams. When he answered, Kat’s strident, annoyed voice burst through the fog enveloping his brain.

“Will, it’s noon. You were supposed to come here last night. What happened?”

“Sorry luv – must be getting flu. Feel feverish, my head hurts and my stomach is roiling. Should be better later. What time is dinner?”

“I told you, it’s at seven. Don’t disappoint everyone. Call me before you leave.”

When she slammed down the phone, William thought his eardrum perforated the pain was so bad. He pulled the phone plug out and lay back trembling as he tried to remember the jumbled images that had assaulted his sleep. In the first horrible scene Liam was hanging from chains in the ceiling of an empty garage. He was swaggering about in his leather duster brandishing a glowing poker that he thrust into Liam’s bare chest. That vision quickly evolved into another. He was standing in an underground cavern of some sort. A small blonde girl reached for his hand and the ground shook and rocks fell down on them. She ran and he burst into flames.

He was shocked by the horror of the two scenes. He was exhausted and hot, but he was shivering. He closed his eyes and must have fallen asleep because he woke again with a vicious headache and a sore throat. Great. He lied and said he had the flu and now he really had it. He got out of bed slowly and staggered into the bathroom. He stood under the hot shower recalling his most recent dream. He and Liam had been standing in an alley, rain pouring down. They were brandishing swords at a horde of demons coming toward them. Suddenly he realized the water had turned cold and he shivered violently. He really was sick. It felt as if shards of glass were stabbing his forehead. It was Christmas. Shit. Kat would be furious if he didn’t make dinner. He had no energy to towel off so he wrapped himself in his terrycloth robe and walked slowly back to the bed. He plugged the phone in and it immediately rang.

William hesitated but read the number on the handset and picked up the phone. “Matt.”

“Will. Are you all right? Kat called me. Are you sick or just hiding out?” His friend asked.

“Could be a horrible hangover but don’t really think so. I feel really hot.” William responded weakly.

“I’m coming over. Sam is here. I’m bringing him with me.”

“No Matt. It’s Christmas… I’m…

Matt interrupted. “I’m coming Will. You’re never sick.”

William hung up the phone and apparently fell back to sleep because he was awakened by a gentle touch on his face. His entire body ached. He opened his eyes carefully. It was Sam, a young doctor they both knew well.

“Open up. Have to take your temp.” He demanded.

William opened his mouth for the thermometer as Sam took his pulse. The doctor removed and read the thermometer.

“Shit Will! It’s 102 degrees!

The young doctor looked down his throat and listened to his chest. He prodded William’s stomach making him wince.

“There’s no fluid build up yet, but one side of your throat is swollen, your pulse is racing and your spleen is tender. I want you in the hospital.”

“No. Not going to the hospital.” William said harshly.

“You shouldn’t be alone with a fever this high. I’m worried that it could spike. Matt, call an ambulance.”

William sat up quickly and the entire room spun making him nauseous. “No! No ambulance. Couldn’t you take me?” He begged.

Matt and Sam looked at each other. “OK.” Sam said still looking worried. Matt, help him get dressed.”

William tried to stand and the room tipped again, making his stomach flutter and his head pound. He sat down on the bed and allowed Matt to help him dress, unhappy with his helplessness.

A short while later, the three young men emerged from the elevator into the main floor of the hospital. Will was bundled up in a coat and Matt’s ski cap and leaned heavily against his friend. Sam led him back to examining rooms leaving the lawyer to handle all the documentation needed. After a short while, Sam took William up to his room.

That night William’s fever did spike – to 104 degrees. Powerful antibiotics and fluids were pumped into his body. He was delirious and moaned and thrashed in the bed, waking after one particularly frightening dream. He and Liam were in a run down theatre. They were bloody and beating each brutally. He had stabbed Liam with a piece of wood! He was afraid to fall asleep again but his body intervened.

“Liam. Liam. Angel. Angel, help me?”

Sam looked at Matt who looked surprised. “Angel’s the character in his book. Liam is that artist he met in San Francisco – the one doing the sketches for the movie. He’s mentioned him several times.” The lawyer looked at his watch. “Damn, better call Kat. Tell her he’s not coming out to Long Island.” He paused and implored his friend. “Would you do it? You’re the doctor. She won’t yell at you.”

The young doctor smirked at his friend. “Never knew you to be afraid to talk to anyone, especially not a woman.”

“This woman is used to getting her way.” The lawyer defended himself.

Sam smirked again and took out his cell phone. Several minutes later he had told Kat about William’s high fever, dehydration and high blood pressure and that he would have to stay in hospital for at least two more days. He listened to the woman’s response and then interrupted. “Ms Dunedin. A fever of 104 can be very dangerous. I will not release him until it has been normal for twenty-four hours. We have to find the cause of the infection. I must see to my patient. Good-bye.”

Sam looked up at Matt. “I see what you mean. She wanted an ambulance to bring him out to Long Island.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Told you. Look, you go. I’ll stay with him.”

“Matt. Go home. He’ll be out of it all night. The nurses will take care of him. Come back tomorrow.”

The young man looked worriedly at his friend in the bed. He hoped Will would be all right. He had awakened frightened and disoriented in a hospital two years ago. Matt didn’t want him to wake up alone this time.

Sam gave orders to the nurses. Apparently one knew who William was and told the others on duty with her. His celebrity and good looks would probably get him extra attention.

Liam locked the door after the last customer left and leaned against it exhausted. He had been on his feet for almost twelve hours. His face was stiff and tired from smiling. Patrick was tired too but the incredible number of sales made him giddy.

“$50,000 today Liam! Every one of your paintings sold!

Liam smiled tiredly at his boss. “Yeah, and those two oil paintings that have been here forever, most of Torah’s glass sculptures and several of Kelly’s pieces. I’m really going to miss What a Drag. It haunted me.”

“It is extremely original, but why did it haunt you?” Patrick asked.

“I think that’s how some women treat men. They capture them at a weak moment and use false devotion and great sex to entangle them in a relationship. Then they drag them around and the men’s hearts get battered but they don’t have the guts to break the chain. The women parade the men around like a…like a pet on a leash.”

Patrick looked at Liam, surprised at the powerful emotion from a man who rarely revealed his feelings. “Wow Liam. You really thought about this.”

“It’s a brilliant piece.”

“Yes it is and successful. It got an emotional reaction from you. Well the buyer was from the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles, so other men will be as…as affected as you are.” Patrick grinned at Liam, who was now blushing furiously.

“What time is your flight Liam?”

“3:00 am. I’m gonna shower and change.”

“Henry will be here with the limo in 45 minutes. Our flight leaves at 4:00. You’ll ride with us.”

Patrick and his new lover, Henry, were flying to Tahiti. They would be gone until January 6. That meant that Liam would have to come back even earlier from Hawaii. Norah would not be pleased especially since he wouldn’t be there for New Year’s Eve. Liam didn’t mind all that much. He had gone to Norah’s grandparent’s estate once before. Every moment was orchestrated and he had no time to explore on his own.

After an uneventful flight, Liam arrived at the Scanlon estate about 9:00 am. He had slept only briefly on the plane and he was tired and a bit cranky. Fortunately almost all of the men were already on the golf course and the women were still sleeping. The maid showed him to his room. Although he thought Norah’s parents knew they were sleeping together, her grandmother insisted on propriety and gave them rooms at opposite ends of the enormous house. Liam was glad. He did not have the energy to deal with his girlfriend just yet. He undressed and lay down, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Like the proverbial fairy tale, he was awakened with a kiss. Norah was kneeling at the side of his bed, not smiling.

“What time is it?” Liam asked a bit groggily.

“Two o’clock. You’ve slept the day away.” Norah said petulantly.

He sighed. “I worked almost twelve hours yesterday and couldn’t really sleep on the plane.”

“Well, get up and shower. We’re opening presents at four. Dinner is at six and then we’re going to the Foster’s for drinks and deserts.” She pecked him on the lips and wrinkled her nose. “You smell.” She turned to go but glanced back. “You are getting up?”

He nodded and sat up and she left the room. He sat for a moment remembering images from another horrific nightmare. At first he and William were in the past, in an underground mine. They had long hair and wore the old fashioned clothes of the young men in his paintings. He was angry with William and pinned him down holding a piece of wood against his chest. William grinned crazily up at him. Suddenly the scene changed to present day. He and William were fighting each other in a crumbling old building. They had beaten each other brutally and William pierced his shoulder with a piece of wood. He groaned and got up.

He walked onto the little porch outside his second floor bedroom, forcing all thoughts of his dreams and William away. He stood for a while drinking in the lush beauty of the island, its riotous colors and intriguing smells, none of which were exhaust fumes. Reluctantly he went back inside to shower. He allowed the hot water to massage his tired muscles. Wrapping a towel around himself, he went back into the bedroom to unpack. Everything was wrinkled. The last time he’d been here Norah insisted that he leave a few things. He opened the closet. Obviously Norah had shopped for him. Several pairs of pants and shirts hung together with a khaki suit that he had not purchased. He took out a blue cotton shirt and walked to the dresser. He had left one pair of shorts; now there were five. He knew that money was no object for Norah, but he didn’t like her buying him so much.

Liam dressed and went downstairs carrying his wrinkled clothing and his sketchbook and pencils. He hurried into the kitchen hoping he would meet no one.
The cook looked up and smiled.

“Master Liam. Nice to see you again.”

Liam bowed and grinned at the diminutive man. “It’s good to see you Javier. Merry Christmas.”

“Your tea is ready and I made scones for you and Happy Christmas to you.”

Scones. William’s face floated into his mind as he sat at his kitchen table. Liam forced thoughts of the writer away.

“Thanks. My packing is terrible and these clothes are wrinkled. Could Marcelina press them for me?”

“Of course. Do you want to drink your tea outside?”

“Yes, thanks.” Liam reached into his pocket and brought out a small wrapped package. “Merry Christmas Javier.”

The cook’s eyes widened and then he bowed solemnly. He smiled and took the package. “Thank you. I will open it later if that is all right?”

“Of course.” Liam knew that most of the Filipino servants in the house preferred to open gifts in private. He handed the clothing to the man and then walked out onto the lanai. A few minutes later, the older man brought out a tray with his late afternoon “breakfast” – a pot of tea and a plate of freshly baked scones. Once again William’s grinning face appeared in his mind. Liam pushed him away and reached for the pastry. It was perfect, slightly crunchy on the outside and soft and crumbly inside and filled with raisins. He licked melted butter from the side of his mouth and hardened at the memory of William’s buttered lips. He held himself stiffly willing his erection to subside.

Finally the beauty surrounding him awakened his artist’s eye. He finished his “breakfast,” left the tray on the table and walked out onto the lawn. He still felt strange not cleaning up after himself but Norah had been horrified the last time when he began to carry his dishes out to the kitchen. He didn’t do it again. Checking his watch, he saw that he had about forty-five minutes till the gift “presentations.” He cringed knowing he would receive an overly expensive present from Norah and her parents that he could never match. They had given him a Rolex watch for his birthday in May. He had painted this house for Norah’s grandparents and her parents’ house in San Francisco. Norah was impossible to buy for. She had everything. He talked to his friend, Torah, who was now showing her work at the gallery. She made a glass dolphin for his girlfriend in shades of green, her favorite color. Liam had traded a watercolor of the Point Bonita Light.

Thinking of Torah’s glass pieces brought William into his mind again. He had bought the blue sailboat for his girlfriend. Shaking his head to dislodge visions of the writer from his head, Liam stood up and walked the length of the lawn onto the beach – the private beach. It amazed him that someone could own a beach. The sand was hot on his bare feet so he ran to the water, cooling his toes in the gently rolling surf. He stood there for long minutes memorizing the colors, textures and smells, allowing the ocean and the beauty of the island to soothe his battered soul. He checked his watch and hurried back to the house. He had only fifteen minutes to shower and change.

The tree took up the entire corner of the room. Brightly wrapped packages stood in separate piles, Norah’s nephew and niece sitting next to theirs in barely contained annoyance that they had to wait. Things were tightly organized. Liam was a guest, so he gave and received his gifts first.

Norah’s parents and grandparents seemed to really like his paintings of their homes.

“Probably be worth a fortune one day Liam, just like those Impressionist paintings always going up for auction.” Norah’s grandfather winked at him and he smiled back, a bit embarrassed by the high praise. He handed Norah her gift. She opened it and looked up at him.

“It’s pretty. Did you trade one of your paintings for this Liam?” She asked and all conversations stopped.

“Um…yes. Yes I did. Torah wanted the lighthouse painting. I…I thought it was an even trade.”

“The barter system has long worked in the arts, Norah, my dear. Liam is carrying on a very old tradition.” Her grandfather filled the sudden awkward silence and then everyone began to speak at once as they opened their gifts.

Liam was hurt that Norah thought his gift wasn’t enough because he didn’t pay for it with money. He pasted on a happy face but inside turmoil raged – hurt, anger, betrayal – and he was surprised by the power of the emotions.

“Liam…Liam.”

He started and looked up. Norah was handing him a thick envelope. “This is from me and my parents and grandparents.”

Liam opened the envelope, his face flushed and his fingers stiff. Inside was a round-trip ticket to Rome and an itinerary planned around every famous museum in Italy. He gasped and looked up.

“All artists need to study in Italy, Liam. These are open tickets. You can use them whenever you can get away from the gallery.” Norah’s grandmother spoke quietly.
“You have real talent my dear boy. We want to make sure you develop it completely.” Her eyes were kind and happy. She and her husband were the most sincere of Norah’s relatives. Liam believed that they said only what they truly meant. There was no pretence in them despite their enormous wealth.

“I…I…I don’t know what to say. This is too much. I… thank you.” He stammered.

Everyone smiled indulgently at him and then turned to focus on the grandchildren who were trying to make a dent in their gigantic pile of gifts.

Dinner was uneventful. Norah talked mostly to her sister’s husband seated next to her, almost totally ignoring Liam. At the Foster’s, Liam mingled for a bit on his own, refusing to just follow Norah around. He drank more than he usually did and excused himself to go outside for air. Mrs. Foster’s elderly father joined him and he spent the next hour listening to the old man talk about the fascinating history of Hawaii.

Norah found him and her annoyance was palpable.

“Nice boy you’ve got here Norah. Listens to an old man’s stories.” He laughed and winked at Liam. “Come by anytime. I’d like you to see my orchids, maybe sketch a few.”

Liam smiled and nodded and followed Norah inside. They said their thank-you's and good-byes and went out to her car. He expected a loud argument but she said nothing on the drive home. When they got back to the house, she said goodnight and immediately went upstairs. Liam went to his own room, changed and walked down to the beach. He sat on a rock and watched the surf, images of William intruding on his thoughts. He liked the man and thought he would be a good friend, but the dreams and sexual images of him were upsetting. Exhausted by his confusing emotions and the tension he felt when he was on display in large gatherings, he went inside and upstairs to his room. Norah was asleep in his bed. He undressed and slid in next to her, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. She did and reached out to grab his flaccid penis.

“We haven’t had sex in two weeks Liam.” She whispered. She crawled on top of him and proceeded to grind against him until his organ hardened. She rolled off waiting for him. He didn’t feel like making love with Norah. She had hurt him deeply by her dismissive attitude toward his Christmas gift. But, he felt obligated to her and began to kiss her lovely body. He fondled her full breasts and prepared her with his fingers.

“On the table.” She gasped.

Liam found the condom and put it on entering her swiftly and riding her until he came. He was having sex, not making love. He didn’t feel love for her tonight. Norah kissed him perfunctorily and left his room. He fell asleep and dreamed of sex with William. He awoke with a cry, realizing that he had brought himself off in his sleep as he dreamed of William in a variety of erotic positions. He lay for a long while, worried, angry, and mortified by his lurid dreams.

He couldn’t understand this. Was he gay in the life he couldn’t remember? He had never been attracted to a man in the two years since he woke from his coma. What was it about William that brought these arousing fantasies? He wished he had never done those sketches from his dream. He wished he had never met the writer. He fell into a fitful sleep knowing there would be fireworks when he told Norah that he had to leave on the twenty-seventh. She would have to attend a lavish New Year’s Eve party dateless.

He stiffened his resolve and sought her out early in the day before she and the rest of the women went to an all-day spa party. Furious was putting it mildly. She practically spit with anger and told him to leave right away. He found Norah’s grandparents, thanked them for their hospitality and their wonderful gift and told them he had to go back to San Francisco. Since they had been sitting on the lanai, they had heard his conversation with their granddaughter. Norah’s grandmother urged him to stay saying that she would get over her anger but her grandfather interrupted.

“She was rude Margaret.” He looked up at Liam. “If I were you, son, I would leave. Norah should not have spoken to you that way. She doesn’t understand commitment to work since she’s never had to have a real job. I’m sorry you have to go. You are welcome here anytime with or without Norah. Your painting means a great deal to us Liam. We’ve hung it in our bedroom. You are very talented son, do not give up your gift.”

Liam’s throat constricted with emotion. He could do nothing but nod and offer a small smile. He called a cab and walked to the end of the long driveway to wait. He sat in the airport for hours and got on a plane at in the late afternoon to return to San Francisco. During the flight he felt coldness come over him, like that expression Patrick used about someone walking over his grave. Liam tensed. Something had happened to someone he cared about. He worried all the way to San Francisco. He called Patrick’s cell phone when he got back to his apartment but his patron and his friend were fine. He sat out on his balcony and suddenly he saw William’s face again. He knew something had happened to the writer and he did not know how to get in touch with him.

Liam called Patrick again and told him his concern. Patrick gave him his friend’s number. The worried artist called the man and got the number of the professor who had asked him to present his sketches to William and the director. He told that man he had lost William’s number and needed to talk to him about the artwork. The man had William’s card and gave Liam the writer’s number. It rang several times and then he heard William’s voice telling him to leave a message. Just as he was leaving his name and number someone picked up the phone.

“Hi. This is Mary. Are you a friend of William’s? She asked.

“Yes. I’m the artist who did some sketches for the film. I met William in California.”

“Are you Liam?”

He was startled that this stranger should know his name. “Um…yes.”

She spoke quickly. “William told us about you. He has been sick and in the hospital.”

“Is he going to be all right?” He asked, his voice shaky with concern.

“At the moment he is quite ill, but he is getting good care. If you give me your number, I’ll call you to let you know how he is.”

“Please. You will call me? Or I can call you?”

“Liam, he really is in good hands. If you want you can call me. I’ll give you my brother’s number too. He’s Will’s lawyer and his friend.”

They exchanged numbers and hung up. Liam paced the apartment. Finally he went up to the studio and tried to concentrate on some unfinished work. It was no use. He imagined William in a hospital bed. He remembered when they talked at the gala. They shared the terror they felt when they awakened in hospital two years ago with their previous lives a total blank. He felt helpless. He took his sketchbook and went back downstairs out onto the balcony. He sat and sketched William’s many expressions. He didn’t know why he felt so connected to this man. They must have met before in the time that neither of them could remember. The phone rang and Liam raced inside. It was Matt. He gave Liam as much information as he could and the artist could tell the lawyer was unnerved at his friend’s condition. He promised to call again and told Liam he could call him anytime and gave him his cell phone number.

Just before he hung up he paused. “Um…Liam…um…William has been calling your name in his feverish state. Did…”

Liam interrupted. “We’re friends Matt. I also lost my memory and awakened in a hospital two years ago so we sort of connected. I spent time with him and I really like him.”

“He liked…likes you too. Talked about you on the phone to me. Look, I’ll call you. I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s too ornery to let this keep him down.”

Liam and Matt shared a tense quiet laugh at that said good-bye and hung up.

Liam sat staring at the phone. He was embarrassed by Matt’s unspoken question and its implication. He liked William. He knew that they could be great friends, but he didn’t understand the sexual tension between the two of them and refused to acknowledge that he could be attracted to a man.

For the next couple of days Liam worked in the gallery although business was almost non-existent. After work he either drove to the beach to sketch or worked on unfinished drawings in his studio. Usually his art calmed him, but his worry over William and his confusion over his feelings interfered. He spoke to Matt several times and was glad that William was improving.

He was hanging new paintings in the gallery when the phone rang. “Cairdeas Gallery. This is Liam.”

“Liam, its Patrick. How’s business?”

“One person has been in and that was to return something for credit.”

“How’s William?”

“He’s still sick but improving. Don’t know when he’ll be back in San Francisco though.”

His boss spoke kindly. “Look Liam. Close the shop. Go away for a few days. I know you’re fretting. Do you want to go to New York?”

“No. I don’t want to intrude. We…we don’t really know each other that well. I just like him. We have a lot in common. Thanks Patrick. I think I will get out of San Francisco for a few days. When will you be back?”

“We’re staying a few more days, until January 10. It’s so beautiful here Liam. You have to visit. It is a perfect place for an artist. Call me if you need me. Good-bye.”

Liam said good-bye and stood still for a moment. I’ll go to L.A. Watch the surfers. Do the tourist thing. He called Matt.

“Hi Liam. Will was released from the hospital late yesterday afternoon. He decided to go to the beach for a few days before he heads back to San Francisco to work. I’m sure he’ll contact you. I told him you called and gave him your cell phone number.”

“Oh…oh I’m glad he’s so much better. Thanks, Matt. Good-bye.”

Liam hung up. He put a sign in the window saying that the gallery would open January 6th, locked the door, turned off the lights and turned on the alarm, hurrying outside to his stairway. He walked slowly up to his apartment. William knew he called, had his number, but didn’t phone. He couldn’t believe how much that bothered him. Shoving the bewildering feelings aside, he called for a cab and packed hurriedly. While he waited in the airport for his flight, he called the small bed and breakfast that Patrick recommended, the Channel Road Inn in Santa Monica. Fortunately they had a room available.

It was just beginning to snow as William rode to the airport. He boarded the plane for Los Angeles. Southern California would be warm and sunny. He felt tired and weak since his ordeal in hospital. It had frightened him and he didn’t like to feel scared. He put on his headphones and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and allowing the music of Coldplay to wash over him. Liam’s face hovered in his mind.

Matt had told him Liam had called wanting to talk about the sketches for the movie. He called several more times while he was sick. William did not return his call. He was disconcerted about his dreams about Liam. Everything seemed so real. He felt that they were his memories but that was impossible. He remembered the one night they spent together – at the bar and in Liam’s apartment. He felt an immediate connection with the man, friendship as well as a sexual attraction. He moaned as he hardened. His eyes flew open as a hand touched his shoulder.

“Mr. Tennyson, are you all right? You were moaning.” The steward spoke quietly, his face concerned. “Can I get you something?”

William flushed, thankful that he had his notebook on his lap. “I’d love a cup of tea when you can manage it…and…and perhaps a blanket.”

The man smiled. “Right away sir. By the way, my wife loved your book and can’t wait for the movie.”

William smiled and nodded. “I always carry a few in my bag. Would she like an autographed copy?”

“Oh yes sir! She would love it. Thank you.”

The man left him and he reached inside his carry-on and pulled out one of his books. When the steward returned with his tea and blanket, he asked his wife’s name.

“Gretchen. I can’t thank you enough. She passed her copy to a friend and the woman lent it to someone else and it got lost.”

“Well, now she’ll have a new copy.” William wrote a brief message and handed the man the book. The steward thanked him again and hurried away. William sat sipping his tea, thinking about Liam’s painting that was inspiring the setting for his next novel, the impending movie of Restless Soul, and Liam. The man was never far from his thoughts and it puzzled him. He didn’t think he was the type to go over the moon about anyone, at least not lately. And he didn’t believe he had never felt this way about a man, even in his past.

He recalled his last conversation with Kat. When he told her his doctor advised him to go away someplace warm for a while if he could, she suggested Aruba where a family friend had a home. He declined and told her he was going back to the West Coast immediately, although he didn’t tell her that he wasn’t going to San Francisco. He’d rest and be ready when the director started filming. She was furious. They were supposed to attend a house party together on New Year’s Eve and now she’d be alone.

“Why can’t you leave after New Year’s? I thought it was connected with a college. Colleges are usually closed until the end of January.”

“Kat. The director wants to meet right after New Year’s, January 2.” He lied and was chagrined that he felt no guilt.

“Christmas and New Year’s Eve William! I’ve been alone for both holidays.” She shrieked. “Something is going on you prick!” She slammed down the phone.

Obviously his relationship with Katherine Porter was over. Surprisingly, he was relieved. He changed the CD and inserted a disc of The Ramones; a band that he suddenly remembered he liked. Matt had given him that and several others for Christmas. He knew the infection had weakened him, but hopefully the sun and sandy beaches of Santa Monica would be just what the doctor ordered. He smirked. Sam told him he needed to get away from the cold of New York and the obvious stress with Kat and he jumped at the chance.

~Part: 4~

Liam checked into the small hotel. It was a great choice. It had been a large turn of the century home that had been restored as a bed and breakfast. The rooms were bright with several windows and were furnished with antiques. He unpacked and stood for a moment looking at the beach that was a block away. He took his sketchbook and pencils, left his room and strolled toward the ocean, where he took off his shoes and socks. He walked over the gritty sand to the edge of the water; the sun warmed his body. He felt a small measure of peace as he watched waves roll in to the shore.

William checked into the small bed and breakfast in Santa Monica that had been recommended by a friend of Mary’s. He smiled when he got to his suite – sun streaming in, a rocking chair by the window and a view of the beach. He was tired, but thought the sun would feel wonderful after New York’s cold snow. He went downstairs carrying his notebook and sat on the side porch, in one of the rocking chairs. He sat quietly for a while as the warmth of the sun soaked into his body and soul. He opened the notebook and jotted down thoughts for his next novel – ideas, phrases, scenes, and characters flowed onto the page uninterrupted. He grinned to himself. Obviously his creative juices liked warm weather. He had a history in Los Angeles, even if he didn’t know what it was. Now that he was successful, perhaps a return to the West Coast would be possible.

December 31st not really a popular day for a swim even in southern California. Liam was alone on the beach. Out in the ocean, wet-suited surfers floated on the swells waiting for the perfect wave. He watched until he saw three of them ride in and come out of the water. He had never sketched surfers; they would be a new challenge for him. He stood and walked toward them, hoping they wouldn’t think he was a pervert when he asked to sketch them. Fortunately, his sketchbook had several other unfinished drawings of Mr. Gutierrez and his dog, faces and beach scenes.

They weren’t weirded-out by his request and he sat with them until almost sunset. He sketched them in and out of the water and asked them about surfing. Two of them posed for him by their boards. He thanked the young men and the lone young woman for their time and willingness. He told them he’d be around for a few days so they might see him again. Satisfied with his afternoon, he walked back to the hotel. He showered and changed, then went out to look for the small restaurant bar that Patrick had mentioned. Fortunately it was not one of those places that required reservations on New Year’s Eve. He sat in a booth facing the door drinking Jameson’s and froze when he saw William walk in.

William finally gave in to his tiredness and went up to his room. “Bloody, sodding old ponce you are now,” he groused to himself when he lay down in the large soft bed. He fell asleep quickly and woke up rested, even though he dreamed. The images were not the stuff of nightmares. He saw himself in a house playing cards with a pretty teenaged girl who was grinning at him. In another scene he was on a private plane with Liam and they were drinking out of little liquor bottles and talking amicably like old friends. After he showered and changed, he walked out onto the street to search for a bar that also served food. A few blocks down, he found what he wanted - O’Brien’s Pub. He opened the door and stepped inside; freezing when he saw Liam seated in a booth. He recovered and walked over smiling.

“Small world innit?” He grinned.

At first Liam stared at him speechless. “Um…yes…how did you…you’re better. Why are you in Santa Monica?”

“May I sit?” William asked.

Liam nodded. “You’re really better?”

“Yeah. Still weak. Actually took a nap this afternoon.”

Liam laughed at the disgusted look on William’s face and the writer returned a smile. “What made you sick?”

“Flu. Infection. Sod all. I’m never sick. Don’t like it. Hate all the fussing everyone does.”

“So, why are you in Santa Monica?”

“Doctor said rest. Find somewhere warm. Friend of a friend mentioned the Channel Road Inn and…”

Liam’s eyes grew wide and he interrupted. “You’re staying there? So am I.”

William grinned and repeated. “Like I said, small world innit?” Both men laughed.

The waitress came over to give them menus and to take their drink orders.

“Weren’t you goin’ to Hawaii for the holidays?” William asked.

“I did. Left early. Patrick is staying in Tahiti longer.” Liam flushed. “I …I had a weird feeling something happened to you so I found your number and called, all the while believing it was just my Irish premonitions going awry. But it was true.”

“Yeah pet. Thanks for calling.” William looked like he was going to say more but the waitress arrived with their drinks. When she left he continued. “So how come you’re here and not at the gallery?”

Liam sighed. “There was no business and I…” He paused and took a gulp of whiskey before he continued. “Norah and I had a huge fight about my leaving early. I think it’s over. Patrick told me to get away for a few days.”

William rolled his eyes. “Looks like it’s breaking up season. Kat wasn’t happy I missed Christmas and when I told her I wouldn’t be in New York on New Year’s, she basically told me to fuck off!”

Liam replied softly. “Everyone expects so much on the holidays. They’re bound to be disappointed.

The waitress brought their food and another round of drinks. Liam and William relaxed and ate, talking like they had the night in Dolores’ bar. They commiserated over romantic break-ups. Liam told William about the trip to Italy that Norah and her family had given him.

“I have to send the tickets back.”

“Bugger that. It was a gift.”

“William. I’m not seeing Norah anymore. I can’t…”

“Call the grandparents. Ask them. You said they were sincere. They’ll tell you what to do.”

“Maybe.” Liam answered tentatively.

“Maybe nothin’. They’re right. Artists should go to Italy.”

They ordered another round of drinks and talked more. William told Liam the ideas for his next novel – the setting totally inspired by Liam’s painting. “You’re talented, pet. Go to Italy. I think I was there in my forgotten life.”

The conversation stopped as each man thought of the past they had lost and of their nightmares. Liam broke the silence. “I’ve done more sketches. That’ll give the design team more choice.”

William looked at him intently across the table. “Liam…”

“Five minutes to New Year’s – in New York!” Someone yelled and the bartender turned on the large-screen TV hanging near the bar so everyone could watch the ball drop.

“Have you ever gone to Times Square?” Liam asked.

William snorted. “Are you kidding? Everyone’s drunk, strangers kiss and paw you and the pickpockets rob you blind. Last year Matt had a party. This year…this year I was supposed to be on Long Island.”

“Two minutes.” The bartender yelled and turned up the volume.

“Do you Irish drink champagne?” William asked with a sly grin.

Liam glared at him but the twinkle in his eyes ruined the effect. He called the waitress and asked. Surprisingly she brought back a bottle of California champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses. She popped the cork, smiled and walked away. William reached for the bottle and poured them each a glass just as the countdown began. Laughing they stood like everyone else and counted, even though it was three hours till midnight on the West Coast: “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!”

They faced each other and raised their glasses to each other.

Sláinte! Happy New Year William.” He grinned at the puzzled look on the writer’s face. “It’s Irish. It means good health.”

“Slansha to you too Liam,” William slurred, “and Happy New Year.”

Liam grinned at William’s attempt at Irish. They sat down and drank the champagne; talking and laughing like old friends. A while later, after the champagne was almost gone, William looked at Liam seriously. “Gotta tell ya somethin’ pet. Been dreamin’…some about you. Nightmares mostly.”

Liam stared and then nodded. “Me too William. Some of them are horrible. We…we had to have known each other before. I feel…” He stopped and took a breath. “I feel an intimate connection with you.”

“You too?” William responded, a surprised look on his face. He swallowed. “Wonder about the violence though. Seem to fight each other a lot.”

“In my dreams too.” Liam replied softly. “Suppressed aggression? I try to hold in my anger and when I give in to it I explode.”

William nodded in agreement and then put his hand to his head. “Look luv, hate to be a wanker but I’m drunk and exhausted and my head is starting to pound. Need to go back to the hotel.”

Liam called the waitress over and asked for their check. She laid it on the table and walked away. William stood up and swayed slightly. He smiled sheepishly at Liam when the other man grabbed his arm. He pulled a $100 bill out of his pocket and put it on the table.

“William, that’s too much.” Liam remarked.

“It’s the holidays.” He swayed again and Liam put his arm around his waist to steady him. “How come you’re not drunk luv?”

“I am. You’ve been sick. It’s hitting you harder.” Liam answered and then grinned slyly. “That’s the second time you called me luv.”

“It’s one of those Englishisms, pet.” William wiggled his eyebrows and they both laughed.

They left the bar and William leaned heavily against Liam as they walked back to the hotel. William hardened slightly when Liam put his arm around him, but the whiskey and his determination forced it down.

“What room are you in?” Liam asked as they stepped onto the dimly lit porch.

William looked totally blank, then reached into his pocket and drew out a key. He handed it to Liam.

“Room 6. I’m in 9.”

The two men entered the silent hotel and staggered quietly up the stars. Everyone must have been out celebrating. Liam used the key to open William’s door and led him inside toward a large flowered sofa. He helped William to sit down and knelt to take off his shoes.

“Sorry about this, luv. I’ll sit here for a bit. Feelin’ a bit dizzy. Don’t want to lie down. Is it hot in here?”

Liam looked at the man worriedly and felt his forehead. “You feel a little hot. Where’s your medicine?”

“Just open the windows, pet. Don’t know if I should take the pills after all that booze.”

Liam opened the three windows wider. “Sure I can’t help you into bed?”

William shook his head and then groaned. “No…thanks…ah…sit with me a while?” He asked in a small voice.

Liam was drunk and tired and he remembered his physical reaction when William had been in his apartment. But he was worried about leaving William alone. He walked over to the couch and sat down. William immediately lowered his head onto Liam’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Thanks, pet. Tell me stuff.”

“Stuff?” Liam asked totally confused.

“About you. Who do you like?”

“Like?”

William sat up. He grimaced and stared at Liam. “Bloody hell, luv. It’s hard work gettin’ you to talk.” He lowered his head back to the artist’s shoulder and sighed.

Liam grinned despite his concern. He began to quietly tell William “stuff.” How he loved to draw portraits because peoples’ faces and eyes revealed their souls. How he often studied people as he walked for miles on the beach; how he tried to remember the past that he lost. He heard a soft snore. William was asleep. He tried to get up, but when he moved William pressed tighter against him and groaned. He was exhausted so he laid his head on the back of the sofa, pushed all thought from his mind, and closed his eyes.

He woke up when he felt William move. “Have to piss.”

He watched as the man stumbled to the bathroom. When William came out from the bathroom, Liam went in. When he returned, he noticed that William sat on the side of the bed.

“Look, you should lie back and get some sleep.” Liam advised. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he drank in William’s beauty.

“Liam. Think the fever’s back.” Liam walked over and felt William’s forehead again. It was much warmer.

“You need to take the medicine to lower the fever. Where are the pills?” He asked trying to hide the worry in his voice.

“Um yeah. Think they’re in…in the side pocket of the little bag.”

Liam glanced around the room and saw the small bag next to the dresser. He looked at the bottles. “Which one?”

William thought for a minute. “Ace…”

“Acetaminophen?”

“Yeah.”

Liam got a glass of water and handed it and two pills to William.

“Damn. Hate this. My body and I are gonna have a serious discussion about its weakness.” He growled.

Liam laughed then suddenly stopped laughing when a sharp pain stabbed above his eye. He hissed.

“What?” William opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Getting a headache.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Didn’t want to be the only weak wanker.” He barked a laugh and then groaned and held his head. “Alliteration.”

“What?”

“Tell you later. Gotta lie down. He got up, staggered, and grabbed onto the bedpost. “Weak wanker.” He growled again.

Liam helped him walk to the head of the bed. William sat down. He slowly brought up his legs and leaned back on the pillow, moaning and closing his eyes. “Room’s spinning.”

“Lie still. Stop talking.” Liam admonished.

“Like givin’ orders then?”

Liam bit back a smile that collapsed when William groaned again. “I gotta sit up.” He struggled to scoot up and Liam lifted him up against the headboard. William growled weakly and spoke petulantly. “Why aren’t you drunk? Drank as much as me.”

“I’m bigger and stronger.” Liam replied with a smirk.

“Are you now?” William opened his eyes and quirked his scarred eyebrow. Liam gasped at the sexuality he saw, recovered, and shook his head at the man on the bed.

Liam grinned. “Are you OK?”

“Do I look OK?” William whispered, still snarky despite his debilitated state.

“I’ll sleep on your couch in case your fever spikes.” Liam said.

“Spike? I know that name.” William spoke quietly.

“That’s not a…” Liam began and stopped abruptly. An image of a man – a peroxide blond in a black duster appeared but his face was indistinct.

William groaned again and held his head. Liam walked to the small refrigerator and took the ice tray into the bathroom. He wrapped the cubes into a washcloth. He walked back into the bedroom and placed the cloth against William’s brow.

William startled. “Shit. Cold.” He burst out. “Feels good.”

“Hold it while I fill up the tray again.” Liam ordered.

“If the painting doesn’t work out, you could always be a nurse, pet. Bossy.”

Liam snorted. “Want me to bring you a bed pan?”

William laughed and quickly moaned.

“Do you ever stop talking? You probably talk in your sleep.” Liam asked in exasperation.

“Only because you’re silent as the grave.” William stopped and shivered as a vision crashed into his already tumultuous brain. Night. A grave. A single hand thrust through the dirt.

Liam froze at William’s comment as an image careened into his consciousness. A graveyard at night. A single hand thrust through the dirt; he stood there dressed in fancy old-fashioned clothes.

William spoke quietly. “Liam. Stay. Nightmares are startin’ before I sleep.”

“I’ll be right here on the couch.” The artist responded; he still shook from the image.

“Liam…could ya sit on the bed? I’ll hate myself in the morning for askin’ but I don’t want to be alone.”

Liam tensed then softened when he looked at William’s flushed face and feverish eyes. He nodded and sat on the bed. He ignored the headache that battered his brain, removed his shoes, leaned back and rested his head against the headboard.

“Thanks, luv.”

Liam whispered, “Sure, pet” as he looked over at William. His eyes were closed but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Liam woke during the night feeling weight on his body. William lay across him – his head rested on Liam’s chest, one arm draped around his waist, one leg thrown over his. His own arm was wrapped around William. He felt the heat in the man. He willed his erection down. William stiffened and moaned pitifully. “No. No.” He whispered.

“Hush Will.” Liam held him closer and rubbed his hand up and down the man’s back until he quieted.

~Part: 5~

Liam awoke with a start from another dream; his erection was painful. He held William’s warm body in his arms and the other man was laying half on top of him. He had slept with William! He carefully slid from the bed and hurried quietly to his own room. He undressed, got in the shower and stroked himself into release while recalling the images that had disturbed his sleep.

He saw himself and William formally dressed in those now familiar Victorian clothes; they were sitting together enjoying a theatre performance. The scene shifted; he and William were mingling happily at a party. Liam swallowed and leaned his head against the tile as he remembered the nightmare that had dragged him out of sleep. William was lying on a bed, naked and face down, his arms and legs tied to the bedposts. Liam was thrashing him with a whip, ripping his back, legs and ass to shreds. He could hear William screaming in his head, but whether it was from pain or pleasure, he wasn’t sure.

He groaned and banged his head against the shower wall, tears coursing down his cheeks, his body shuddering at the horror. Why was he having such abominable dreams? Why were he and William loving and then brutal to each other? Why was he especially cruel? What unconscious fury drove him to behave so terribly? He seldom got angry and the few times he did, he mostly hid his feelings; he didn’t lash out or hurt anyone. His body shook with sobs as he worried what he had been or done in the past that was so horrific that he couldn’t clearly remember. His tattoo – he had it when he awoke in the hospital and had no memory of where he got it or why. Was that a symbol of his membership in some evil secret society?

When the water turned cold, he got out of the shower and dried himself; then wrapped the towel around his waist. He walked back into the bedroom and put on his boxers and pants, tensing when he heard a knock at the door. He knew who it was. He hesitated and the knocking grew louder, more insistent. He opened the door and faced a visibly distraught William.

“We have to talk!” William exclaimed.

Liam nodded and turned away from the door.

“That tattoo! I saw that tattoo in my dreams.” The writer shrieked.

Liam spun around, a look of shock on his handsome face.

“I was…you were…sitting in a big iron tub and I was sponging your back and…and you reached around and pulled me in and…” William closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, tears glistened in his eyes. “We had sex in that tub, Liam. I…rode you in the water! What the fuck is going on?” His voice had gotten louder and more desperate.

Liam stared at him silently for a long moment, his mouth moving with unspoken words. He sank on the rocking chair beside the bed and held his head in his hands, his body visibly shaking.

Seeing Liam so distraught softened William’s anger. He spoke again, his voice quiet and tremulous. “My dreams are more frequent and more vivid now since…you and I…Buggering hell Liam, we had to have known each other in our past! I just don’t understand all those images from the…with us dressed in those poncey clothes. I’ve written a few short stories set in Victorian London but…”

Liam looked up suddenly and interrupted almost harshly. “But not with torture, brutal beatings and sex!”

“No.” William agreed. His heart clenched when he saw the pain and terror in the artist’s tear-filled eyes.

His voice trembling with emotion, Liam spoke quietly. “My dreams are similar, William, and they have intensified since we…since we’ve become closer friends. I don’t understand it either.” Liam stood up and put on his shirt, buttoning it as he turned and walked to the window. He continued speaking but did not turn around. “Why do so many dreams take place in the past? Why mostly in London?” His voice broke and he paused, turning around to briefly face the man watching him; then he lowered his head and spoke into the floor. “Why do I hurt you William? I would never do what I’ve seen myself do in my nightmares. Why are we…so close in other dreams?”

Liam looked up again and searched William’s captivating blue eyes. “There are sometimes other faces, but mostly I’m with you, William.”

The two men looked at each other in confusion; fear, anger, and sadness raced across their faces. William sighed, walked to Liam and placed a hand on his shoulder; both of them felt the electricity coursing through them.

“We are connected, luv. Maybe these dreams and night terrors are our minds trying to shake our memories loose.” He smirked. “Don’t agree with the buggering method but it’s been two years. Our sodding minds must be impatient.”

Liam couldn’t smile; his heart was breaking with guilt and loss. He knew he wanted William in his life and these capricious visions were tearing them apart. He didn’t want to remember what his dreams insisted was his obviously evil past. He wanted the nightmares gone. He wanted peace.

William touched Liam’s face lightly with his fingers. The artist shuddered and turned away from the loving touch. William stopped, hurt by Liam’s reaction. His stubbornness made him reach out and place his hand in the middle of the other man’s back.

“Sorry about the ranting, pet. I get loud and feisty when I’m hurt, angry, scared…guess it happens pretty much with every bloody emotion. You bottle everything up and put one of those safety caps on that nobody can open.”

Liam turned around, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “I don’t bottle.”

William grinned. “You bloody well do. We all have our own way of dealing. Can’t all be the same, pet. You’re an artist, you capture all that feeling inside and it comes out in your paintings.” He paused and watched as Liam’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Walk on the beach. Soak up some sun. Watching the ocean soothes…my soul.”

Liam stared at William, his surprise obvious. He smiled slightly. He didn’t speak, just nodded and sat in the chair. William stood and watched as he put on his socks and shoes.

He looked up and saw the silly smirk on the writer’s face. “What?”

“You’re bottling.”

Liam sighed but his lips twitched. “William, I don’t…I’m not good with talking…about my feelings.”

“You speak loudly enough in your paintings, luv.” William responded with a wink finally getting a tiny smile out of the other man. “Come on. Maybe the ocean air will blow out the cobwebs and we’ll figure out a plan.”

When they walked downstairs, the woman at the front desk motioned to them. “You are both scheduled to check out tomorrow. Is that still the case?”

William and Liam looked at each other and an unspoken decision was made. “Are the rooms available for tomorrow night? William asked.

“Yes, they are.”

“We’ll stay another night.” The writer answered with a smile. The men nodded to the woman and left the hotel.

William stopped abruptly and looked at Liam excitedly. “Let’s go to the pier. I heard the students talking about the Santa Monica Pier. I haven’t been to an amusement park in…well at least not in the two years I remember.

Liam looked uncertain but he liked seeing William happy. “I don’t think I’ve even been to one.”

They walked in silence for a while and then William spoke quietly. “There were women in my dreams. A dark beauty in long frilly dresses and a tiny blonde girl – definitely modern. She and I fought, really fought – punches, kicks – and she came at me with a wooden stake. Other times…”He paused and blushed. “Other times we had sex – wild, rough sex, in a crumbling crypt in a cemetery.”

Liam swallowed. “I saw a small girl too – long blonde hair. She looked really young –high school maybe. I think she was my girlfriend. In several dreams we kissed – often in a cemetery. In one dream I was in a tux and she wore a long pink dress. I think it was a dance. There were other kids in formal clothes.” He stopped and his body shivered. “In one of my nightmares we fought with swords and she stabbed me and I disappeared into a swirling vortex.”

He continued. “There were other women in my dreams, but only once or twice. One was blonde and small but she was older and she was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. She was in control and sex with her was rough, too. Another was a skinny girl dressed in rags. We were in a cave. The third one had long dark hair. She was domineering, but she had a huge smile. We were working together in a big, old hotel…but there were no guests.”

“What is it with the cemeteries in our dreams and the grave nightmares?” William asked.

Liam shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t answer. By unspoken agreement that was the end of dream discussion. They walked and talked. William told Liam about a few interesting places in New York, besides the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.

“There’s a small park in the Bronx dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe. It surrounds the tiny cottage that he lived in for a few years. And the Botanical Gardens! Acres and acres of plants and trees and a waterfall! In New York City! You forget you’re in one of the most crowded cities in the world.”

Liam let William chatter; it was like warm arms surrounding him. Sometimes he asked a question so William would know he was listening. He felt so…comfortable. He wasn’t lonely when he was with William.

“Here it is! Come on!” William shouted, his excitement thrusting aside all his anger and fear.

Liam laughed at William’s childlike enthusiasm. The writer dragged the reluctant artist to a large carousel. He immediately jumped on one of the horses, but Liam would only stand and hold onto the horse’s neck as they went round and round. Some adults looked at them strangely but the two men ignored them. They drove bumper cars and laughed uproariously every time they crashed into each other.

They tried their luck at some of the games in the arcade. They threw balls at burlap dolls and each won a stuffed toy. Liam chose a dragon and William picked a unicorn. William bought cotton candy and Liam laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks at the sticky mess on the man’s face and hands. He tried to touch Liam, determined to share his stickiness, but the artist always stepped out of reach. After William cleaned up they walked to the end of the pier – 1,000 feet into the ocean. They watched the fishermen and Liam helped a little boy throw his line far out into the sea.

“I’m starving. Let’s eat.” William whined.

Liam laughed. “That proves it.”

“What?”

“That you’re a child. Children whine.” Liam answered grinning.

“It’s fun bein’ a kid. Besides when I whine I get what I want.” He wiggled his eyebrows at his more somber companion.

Liam’s mouth twitched at the corners as he watched the antics of the beautiful, funny, sensual man before him. He felt himself harden and he suddenly realized that he wanted to kiss William. He forced his arousal down and the thought away.

“Where do you want to eat?” He asked William, the tour guide.

“We’re at the beach, pet. Should eat fish.”

They walked back to land and soon found the Ocean Ave. Seafood restaurant. They ordered a bottle of white California wine to go with their food. William ordered sea bass and Liam had shrimp; then they shared their meals. After dinner they strolled around, talking about everything but their dreams. They discovered the Library Alehouse and for the next few hours they sampled a variety of beers.

Staggering a bit, the pair left the tavern and walked back to the hotel. They said goodnight and went into their separate rooms – exhausted and a little sunburned.

The next day they ate breakfast in the small dining room of the hotel, then began another day of exploring – the California Heritage Museum, the Santa Monica Museum of Art and Bergmot Station - an old trolley station which now housed a few galleries.

“My feet hurt. Let’s sit somewhere and eat.” William demanded.

Liam snorted at the man sprawled on a bench. “You’re whining again.”

William gave him a dirty look that quickly turned into a smile.

“Should we go back to the hotel and change?” The artist asked.

“No. I want to eat.”

Liam laughed again and William grinned, happy that his often brooding friend was having fun.

“Wait here. I’ll ask someone in the museum for a recommendation.” Liam turned and hurried back into the building. William was in the same position when he came back out.

“Broadway Bar and Grill. It’s casual.” He told the other man.

They found Third Street and its Promenade filled with all kinds of shops. They located the bar and went inside to a table in the back. They drank and talked and ate and talked – neither wanting to ruin their evening by mentioning the night terrors that tormented their sleep. When the waitress brought their check, William asked her where the most beautiful spot in Santa Monica was.

“Inspiration Point in Palisades Park. It’s almost dark but I think there is a full moon.”

The men thanked her, paid their bill and left the bar. They climbed up to the bluff that overlooked the town and the ocean and found the spot the waitress mentioned. Both of them stood breathless, drinking in the incredible natural beauty, even though the setting sun darkened the brilliance of the vista. They stared for a while in silence. William moved so he was standing in front of Liam. He looked up at the gorgeous face half in shadow, staring down at him. He drew Liam closer. They looked at each other intently for a long moment. William touched the taller man’s cheek and Liam lowered his head. Their lips met in a gentle kiss and they each shivered, startled by the intensity of their feelings. William turned around to face the ocean and Liam put his arms around him and held his body tightly to his own.

The writer sighed. “Perfect day. Perfect ending.”

They stood for a while and watched the moon brighten a path across the water as the waves crashed onto the sand. Liam released William and they slowly made their way back to the hotel. Neither felt the need to speak. They climbed the stairs and walked to William’s door.

Liam bent down and brushed his friend’s lips tenderly. “Goodnight, Will.” He turned and walked down the hall. William went into his room and leaned back against his door, realizing he had been holding his breath. He swept his tongue over his lips remembering the feeling of Liam’s lips on his. He undressed and stood for a long time looking out of the window welcoming the heat in his body whenever he thought of the artist.

Liam unlocked the door to his room. He was trembling with desire and…confusion. Kissing William had felt…so right. He undressed and stood for a long while staring at the dark sea; his body heated with thoughts of William.

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