I’d just like to acknowledge and thank everyone for the fabulous reviews. I really, really appreciate them! (I also must apologize for my continuous misspelling of ‘prostate’-sorry!) ~ "But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires. " – Thomas Carew ~~~ Two and a Half Weeks Later Justin’s POV “I wasn’t sure if I should get a ‘Get Well’ card or a ‘Good Luck’ card,” Molly explained, “so I got you the one with the alligator on the frount ‘cuz alligators live in Florida.” “Thanks, Mol, it was real sweet of you.” I told her, trying to put the gratitude I felt into words so I could send it down the phone line to her. I had to smile her unusual logic, though. My sister’s small, thoughtful gesture had surprised and touched me. She couldn’t understand the implications of what I was about to go through, but I was moved to find she’d picked up on my anxiety about it. I was also astounded to find that she had addressed the get well/ good luck card to both me and Brian. It made me think that she knew and understood more about us than she let on. I wondered just how surprised she’d be when I told her she was about to get a new brother-in-law. “Did Mom say when she was getting back?” I asked, praying that Molly wouldn’t tell me our Mother had gone out with the biker boy. Molly had told me she liked Tucker, but I was most certainly still ‘undecided’. “She said a few hours,” Molly answered. “She’s showing a house. She wanted to stay home until you called, but she got a message from one of those right-now-this-minute clients.” She paused for a second, and then asked worriedly, “Are you OK? You sound sorta weird” “I’m fine,” I assured her, “Just a little nervous about the operation tomorrow.” “Oh. Well here, Jus, I’m giving you a phone hug.” There was a muffling on the other end of the line, in which I envisioned Molly affectionately embracing the phone receiver. “Thanks Mollusc,” I replied with a small laugh, wishing we were on the same side of the phone line so I could return the favour in person. “When Mom gets back, just tell her that we got here, OK? Tell her I’ll call her later.” I said good-bye to her and hung up, feeling the thick fog of apprehension settle on me again. I hoped Brian would get back soon. After coming with me to check into the Gibson and Lemkie Medical Clinic and Care Centre, Brian had left me in the care of the receptionist to get settled in, while he went in search of a nearby hotel to stay in. I was supposed to be fasting from 6pm onwards, but I made Brian promise me he’d find somewhere to feed himself…which was probably where he was now. The room I’d been given to spend that night, and the six nights following the operation in, was ridiculous; so absurdly luxurious it was almost comical. It was like the fucking Ritz. There was a deep red, crushed velvet arm chair, and a cream-coloured, leather chaise longue. The hardwood floor was of polished mahogany, overlain in two places with expensive looking Persian rugs. The light fixtures were hung with tiny crystals that clinked and glimmered in the warm, gentle breeze from the open French windows. In the bathroom, where there might have been a shower, there was a sort of one-man stream room, and outside it, a shelf lined with unopened bottles of bath salts, body washes and skin moisturizers. The bath robe and towels were a pure snow white, thick and fluffy and soft, and they hung on a heated towel rail. At first I was horrified. How much HAD this actually cost? Fuck! But I found I couldn’t appreciate any of it. Tomorrow’s operation was looming ahead of me like some kind of dark creature laying in wait in the shadows. The procedure itself sounded horrifying. Dr. Soffe had explained that I’d be having a ‘radical retropubic prostatectomy’ in which an incision would be made in my abdomen, and the prostate cut out from just behind my pubic bone. After removing the prostate, the surgeon would stitch the urethra directly to the bladder so urine would be able to flow. I wanted to be relived that it would be over, that the cancer would finally be gone. But as if the prospect of the operation wasn’t frightening enough, I couldn’t rid myself of the disturbing notion that there was still a 40% chance I’d come out of it unable to ever really feel Brian inside me again. I knew we would deal with that if we had to, but somehow, the very real potential for it still terrified me. I found my fingers subconsciously playing at the object tied around my left wrist. Newly acquired, it gave me the courage and fortitude I needed, not only to find my way through these dense, dark, dangerous hours- tomorrow and the days that followed- but through the rest of my life. He’d said he wanted to give me something. Something special to symbolize us. Not a ring- besides being too fucking hetero for Brian, we didn’t want anyone to find out about our engagement until after we got back. We decided that neither of us could deal with that added excitement just yet. What he had given me instead was a material piece of himself; one that not only I, but the whole world, had associated exclusively with Brian since before I’d known him. His shell bracelet. He’d insisted on tying it on me himself- just as I had done for him once, at a very different time of my life. Of course, I’d started crying like a baby, choking out that I had nothing for him. But he’d just held me and kissed me tenderly, telling me that I’d already given him all he’d ever want. I ran my fingers over the smooth surfaces of the shells, loving the way their softness contrasted with the rough edges of the leather strap, worn and frayed from so many years of rubbing against Brian’s skin. And now it would rub against my skin…until the day I died. When my fingers smoothed over the very last shell in the row, I turned my wrist over and held it up the light. The first time I’d done this, had looked at this particular shell that way, my breath had caught in my throat, and it wasn’t until my lungs started aching that I realized I’d actually stopped breathing. For where there had previously been only two letters, ‘BK’, there was now four, the last two penned in Brian’s own hand. ‘BK JT’; my initials right beside his own, as if they had always been there, as if they belonged there. There was nothing else he could have done to so flawlessly, beautifully, powerfully symbolize what I meant to him. God, I loved him. Thinking this, I was a bit shocked to suddenly feel the wetness of tears on my face. Tears through which the emotions that wouldn’t stay inside me cascaded out of; pure liquid passion from deep within me. I wiped the tears on the leather band of the bracelet, so that the love, so powerful it wouldn’t be contained, was stained into it forever. Getting up off the bed- a hospital bed; the only item of furniture in the room that hinted at the true nature of the establishment- I decided I needed to do something to occupy myself…at least until Brian got back. I knew from experience that letting fear and anxiety build and fester only made mountains out of, well, smaller mountains. There was the huge, plasma screen T.V…but that wouldn’t do to stop my mind from wandering. I could call Daphne…but we’d only end up talking about what I was trying to forget. I could try sketching, but I knew I would ever be able to get into the attentive mindset I needed to settle to that task. At last, I decided to try out the steam shower. It would suck to pay all this money for the luxuries I would never get to use (I had a feeling tonight would be the last time I’d be mobile in a while). I went into the bathroom and turned on the steamer, undressing while I waited for the small glass room to fill with hot, misty fog. I smiled unconsciously to myself as I thought that the last steam room I had been in was now Brian’s office at Kinnetic. After a considerable dilemma over which of the three choices of exotic body wash to use, I decided that as we were paying for them, I’d use them all. Why the fuck not- it would give me something to do. I stepped carefully into the steamy midst of the glass enclosure and shut the door behind me. It was like being in a balmy, wet, irriguous cave. The air was thick with moisture and I could feel it passing into my lungs as I acclimatized myself. The swirling, effervescing fog obscured my view of the outside world, steaming up the glass, concealing everything in a translucent white mist. I sat on the narrow bench, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I thought how wonderful it would be if I could pass through this thick, white nothingness, journey through dimensionless space and time to somewhere in the distant future. To a time when he and I had grown old together, when the trails and tribulations of our lives had passed and dissipated…and there was only us left. Fuck, I didn’t want to do this. Irrespective of my demands that they stay in the back of my mind, the thoughts of what lay ahead descended on my frightened consciousness. I was lucky, they’d said. Five or six years ago, they would’ve had to cut across my whole abdomen to get at the prostate, but the miracles of modern nanotechnology had spared me of that. Now there would be only a 3 ½ -inch incision with four additional, smaller insertions into which narrow instruments fitted with miniscule cameras and surgical tools would be inserted. After the surgery, there’d be the temporary insertion of a catheter into my bladder until my body ‘got used to the new set up’. I couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like. Christ. Unable to hold the wolves at bay any more, I gave myself over to the anxiety and the fear crowding in on my pathetic attempt at gallantry. After all, one could never truly be brave without first staring the adversary in the face. I held my small, material piece of Brian to my cheek, and willed it to give me the strength I needed to continue the blind, unrelenting march forward. ~~~ Brian’s POV Justin had never been clingy, so I knew he was upset when he clung to me as if I’d been gone for seven months on a military service mission to Afghanistan. In actual fact, I’d only been gone about an hour and half. But the second I’d opened the door to his room, there’d been a flurry of movement from the bathroom, and Justin had come bounding out towards me, dripping wet and wrapped in a bath robe. I could tell he’d been on tenterhooks. I’d had to go further than I’d expected to in order to find a hotel, and the server at the pub in which I’d eaten– hilariously called ‘The Wasted Unicorn’- moved slightly faster than an elderly sleepwalking sloth. I cursed myself for not just getting fast-food-manifesting-as-a -salad at the Wendy’s across the street. “You smell good.” I whispered to Justin, pressing my nose into his hair, and trying to take the edge off his obvious anxiety. I rubbed his back in long, firm, soothing strokes as he pressed up against me. “And you’re getting me wet.” Justin pulled away abruptly, looking sheepish, and gave me a small smile…not quite a sunshine smile, but it was more ‘partially-sunny’ than ‘variably-cloudy’. The robe he was wearing was of thick, white terry cloth that reminded me of another occasion in which I’d come to him in a luxurious suite. He’d been smaller then, and less well-built, but he still had the same look of being swamped by the material. The reconnaissance of it made me smile, and I gently took hold of his chin and leaned in to give him a demonstrative kiss full on the mouth. “What was that for?” he asked, the smile growing a little bit wider. I was relived to see and to feel that the anxiety in his face and in the room had dissipated somewhat with my return. “I wanted to see if you tasted as good as you smell.” I replied, pulling him into my arms again, not caring that he was soaking the frount of my shirt and jeans. “I didn’t know they made strawberry-lavender-coconut body wash.” His sunshine smile finally came out as he told me I’d mixed the three different fragrances of body wash because he’d been too indecisive to choose just one. He pulled me into the bathroom to show me the wide array of toiletries that had been provided. I was glad to see I wasn’t paying for bottled shampoo and soap wrapped in paper. I selected a bottle of rose and hibiscus body lotion (not quite massage oil, but it would have to do), took his hand, and lead him out to the leather chaise longue. One thing about this room I’d noticed was, luxurious as it may be, it was no honeymoon suite. It was defiantly meant for one person only. I thought may be this was the clinic’s way of trying to give couples a hint, but I thought, fuck ‘em, I was paying for it. I made myself comfortable against the head of the chair, one leg bent and resting along the back of it, and the other draped over the side with my foot brushing the floor. Justin crawled on beside me, settling himself between my legs, and leaning his back against my chest. I undid the sash of his robe, and gently pulled the soft, fuzzy material from his shoulders, helping him to pull his arms out through the sleeves. I’d actually indented on massaging the tension from his back and shoulders, but he leaned his head back against my collarbone, taking my hands and laying them flat on his chest. Alright, I guess if that’s what he wanted... I’d just have to careful not to get too carried away; it was still painful for Justin to cum, and the last thing I wanted was to add to his discomfort. Calm desires, I thought, at least for now. “Tired, Little Boy?” I asked softly against his ear when he closed his eyes. His hands followed mine as I rubbed the softly fragrant lotion over his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribs and sternum. He shook his head, but didn’t open his eyes. “Just thinking,” he replied. I thought about using my cliché ‘that’s very dangerous’, but it wouldn’t be very supportive and it wouldn’t help. “And what are you thinking so deeply about?” I asked instead, pausing in my administrations to wrap my arms around his chest in order to pull him closer to me. “This,” he replied, placing my hand low down on his abdomen, on the place where the doctor had shown us the largest of the five incisions would be made. They had the potential to scar badly, but four would be very small, and the largest one would be more or less out of sight. Besides, why would it matter to anyone but me and him? “He’ll be careful.” I promised Justin, kissing him gently behind the ear. “His job is to make it clean. That’s what we’re paying the big bucks for, right?” He nodded against my shoulder, his eyes closed but the lashes fluttering. I felt his hands still suddenly and the fingers wrap themselves around my hands. “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” I asked, thinking bizarrely and rather inappropriately that it was time I gave him a second nickname. ‘Baby’ was the one that came to mind. He was silent for a time and I waited patiently for his reply. “I’m scared.” I shifted slightly, settling him into the crook of my arm so I could look down at his face, shifting one of my legs to lie protectively across his. His eyes looked back at mine, reflecting exactly what he’d just said, the fear underlying his features giving rise to that childish look of vulnerability and innocence. “I’m scared, too,” I told him truthfully. I knew this wouldn’t comfort him, but I wanted him to know, without the slightest shadow of a doubt, that we were in this together. “I’m scared for you. If I could change places with you right now, I would do it without even thinking. I’d give anything to be able to do this for you, Sunshine. But I can’t. So we just have to be strong for each other, right?” Justin turned over so that we were chest to chest, laying his head on my shoulder and wrapping his arms around my back. I put my arms around him, kissed the top of his head, and buried one hand in his hair, stroking the tendrils at the nape of his neck and the side of his face with gentle fingers. He tilted his head up and I felt his lips brush my earlobe, his warm breath caressing the side of my face like the gentle undulations of a veil fluttering in a supple wind. His words seem to drift across the air to me, as if on soft, iridescent wings. “I love you, Brian. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.” ~~~ The Next Day Justin’s POV It was that moment; that ‘Holy shit, what the fuck am I doing?” moment. The second before the start gun fires in the hardest, most important race you’ve ever run. That moment you reach that first, highest point on a rollercoaster before you plummet into the first death defying loop. That moment of standing, staring at the ground thousands of feet below you, wondering if your parachute will open, or if your bungee cord will snap. It was far worse than I could’ve imagined. The worst part about it was that I knew it was me, myself, who was making it so terrible. I didn’t know what I was so absolutely terrified of, what was stealing my breath and causing my heart to pound so hard it hurt. I was in the operating theatre, the dazzling lights, whirring machines, blinking monitors, and the shining silvery surgical tools making it difficult to distinguish was real and what was a figment of my distressed imagination. The I.V. was imbedded, not in the back of my hand as it had been the last time I’d had surgery, but in the vein at the crook of my left arm. A thin wooden board had been strapped to the arm to stop me bending it and driving the I.V. needle in where it wasn’t meant to go. Because of the I.V., I’d had to take the bracelet off my wrist. I’d asked Brian to wear it for me until I was I.V.-free, but just as I was being wheeled out of my room and down to the operating theatre, I told them to wait, to hold on a second. I knew suddenly that I needed to wear it; I had to have it on my body. I had to have him with me somehow. I didn’t have to explain this to Brian, although it had totally thrown the nurses who were to be my escorts. Brian had taken the bracelet from his wrist and tied it around my left ankle, before kissing me one last time, whispering that he loved me, that he wouldn’t go anywhere. That he’d be there, no matter what. “Justin?” That was the voice of one of the surgeons. They were all wearing pale green surgical gowns and powder blue masks and caps, and I couldn’t even distinguish gender among them. Shaking myself mentally, I looked around for the person who had addressed me. “Can you relax a bit for us, son?” I located the speaker, a man by his voice, tall and well-built with green-grey eyes looking down at me from behind his eye-protection glasses. “We need to have you breathing regularly before we can give you the anaesthetic. Atta boy.” I tried to block everything out, focussing all my thoughts on breathing, on sucking oxygen into my lungs. In and out. In. Out. They had put sensors on my chest to monitor my heart rate during to operation, and I stared hard at the blinking monitor, trying to fathom the idea that each of those rapid blips was my heart muscle contracting. It was pumping rapidly, as if I were running an Olympic marathon. “Justin? We’re just going to give you oxygen here, alright?” Another voice, a woman’s, from somewhere beside my head. I looked up to see the technician’s eyes- deep, golden brown and rimmed with smooth, dark lashes- look down at me as she placed a black rubber mask over my nose and mouth. It smelt of sterilizer and something like acetone, and it made my breathing sound very loud and erratic. “Alright, son, I’d like you to relax and count backwards from five.” I felt the sting of the anaesthetic entering my body, travelling down through the I.V. tube, through the thin needle and into my blood stream. It was a cold, stemming flow, and the coldness was inexplicably inside my body, but not outside it. I knew it would happen quickly and unexpectedly now. Groping with my right foot, I found the last shell on the bracelet tied around my ankle- the shell with those four letters immortalized upon it. I wrapped my toes tightly around it. I took its significance with me as the world plunged suddenly into blackness, and I began my journey into the timeless, dimensionless tunnel through dark oblivion, into the unknown.