Date: Sun, 10 Aug 2003 09:59:20 -0700 (PDT) From: M D Subject: The Silent Violin - Part 1 Legal Notice: The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts. The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. Any resemblance between characters herein and people in the real world is simply coincidental. Don't read this story if: * You're not 18 or over, * If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live, * Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex. The author retains copyright to this story. Placing this story on another website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright. Legal action will be taken against violators. Note: This story will be slow moving, and plot oriented. It is not a porno, though sex will happen. If you're looking for a quick jerk, you may want to look elsewhere. E-mail responses to the story, questions, suggestions, criticism, and comments to: EquinusScorpius@yahoo.com THE SILENT VIOLIN PROLOGUE Sebastian sat curled in the window seat of his bedroom, looking out the window onto a world covered in pristine white snow. He loved and hated the winter; loved the beauty of it, hated the bad memories it stirred up. He couldn't help but remember that fateful winter day, ten long years ago. The accident had happened in the winter. One fine- boned hand came up to touch the ridged scar at his throat. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. There was a knock on his bedroom door and he hugged his arms around his knees and hunched his shoulders up. A few moments later, he heard the door open and his mother's hesitant footsteps on the hardwood floor of his room. "Bastian, honey, are you okay?" Sebastian turned at the sound of his mother's voice, and shook his head. Unshed tears glimmered in his gray eyes and his bottom lip began to quiver. "Oh, honey!" Marjorie hurried over to him, arms extended to pull him into a hug. The tight control over his emotions folded under her love and the tears poured from his eyes as he began to weep in his mother's arms. Huge shuddering sobs wracked his slender frame and a strange keening sound emerged from his throat. "Oh my poor boy, my poor baby. Let it out Bastian, let it out honey," she whispered into his ear as she rocked him in her arms. Marjorie Blackmoore didn't have to ask why he cried. She knew, and she cried with him. His pain struck a chord in her heart, and she couldn't help but rain tears into his thick black hair. He had been such a happy child, smiling and laughing and singing with joyful abandonment. She cried for the joy he had lost. Together, they both cried and remembered. CHAPTER 1 New England winters were cold and harsh, but they were also beautiful. The look of freshly fallen snow adorning the branches of pine trees or the clear lining of ice on the leafless honeysuckle glinting in the cold winter sunlight were wonders of nature's beauty. It was January 14, 1993. A fresh snowfall hid the ugly gray slush from the last snowfall, and Bastian towed his red saucer behind him as he ran outside to go sleighing with his best friend, Aiden McKennough. He was clad in a bright blue pair of snowpants, matching parka, and a mitten-hat-scarf set knitted for him by his grandmother in vibrant yellow. Insulated yellow rubber boots kept his feet warm and dry. He chugged through the snow on short legs, climbing over the mountain of snow left by the snowplow at the foot of the driveway. Bobby Carrington, the older boy who shoveled their driveway for ten dollars, would be around eventually to dig his mother out so she could go to work. Bastian laughed gaily as he made his way up the street, being careful to watch for cars, but the roads were empty this soon after the heavy snow. Two houses up, he could see Bobby Carrington at work on the McKennough's house, aided by Aiden's father and older brother in getting the driveway cleared enough to get the family van out onto the road. Aiden, who was six months older than Bastian's worldly five years, sat perched on his own sled atop the mountain of snow at the end of his driveway. He was dressed in faded green hand-me-down snowsuit and a red and black Elmer Fudd hat covered his ears and the curly orange hair that was trademark of the McKennough clan. "Hiya Bastian!" Aiden called as he spotted Bastian trudging up the road. He stood up to wave and promptly fell down the snow-mountain. Connor McKennough began to laugh hysterically at his youngest brother, pointing at him and pretending to fall in the snow, imitating Aiden's fall. Aiden shot Connor a dirty look and stuck his tongue out at him before picking himself up off the ground, tugging his earflaps back around his ears, and dragging his sled down from the top of the mountain. Shamus McKennough cuffed his oldest son on the side of the head and told him sternly to get back to work, if he wanted to ever get a learner's permit. Connor quickly left off laughing and took up the shovel with newfound vigor. "Hi Aiden, are you ready to go sledding?" Bastian asked. His cheeks were blushed from the cold and his breath crystallized on the scarf obscuring his chin. Aiden smiled his toothy grin and nodded. His left front tooth hard already fallen out, leaving a dark gap in his smile. "Where are we gonna sled, Bastian?" Aiden asked, falling into step with his best friend. "Mr. Roberson said we could sled behind his house as long as he's home. Let's go see if he is." Mr. Roberson lived in a cozy little house at the foot of a steep hill. A sparse line of pine and juniper topped the hill, and the neighborhood children had tied a rope to one of the trees to aid in climbing the hill. Mr. Roberson was also a gym teacher at the local middle school, and when the district was purchasing new wrestling mats, he saved several of the old mats to line the back of his house where the hill ended, knowing full well that sledding children often could not stop. He had implemented that change shortly after Krystal Champier had fractured her arm and dented the siding of his house upon impact with it. Of course he immediately offered to pay medical bills, and there were no hard feelings among the neighborhood adults. They all appreciated his letting the children tear up his backyard. Bastian and Aiden headed back down the street, aiming for the tall hill at the end of the dead-end street. Great drifts of snow were pushed to either side of Mr. Roberson's driveway by the snowplow that cleared the street. There were a few other kids from the neighborhood already sliding down the hill behind his house. Mary and Jane Morris, twins from a street over, were screaming as they plummeted down the hill together on their little toboggan. Kevin Haines, a husky 11-year old greeted them warmly as they pulled their sleds up. "Heya guys, Mr. R's inside, said we can sled as long as we want today." Kevin was a cool guy, and helped both the younger boys up the hill with their sleds. Bastian and Aiden laughed as a scrawny blond kid named Zeke flew backwards off his sled which thudded into the wrestling mats along the back of the house. Zeke ran forward to rescue his sled before pulling himself up the rope to the top of the hill again. Bastian reached the top of the hill, and it seemed miles down to the back of the house. Kevin was holding Aiden's sleigh steady so Aiden could get situated at the top of the slope. Aiden flew down the hill, laughing happily. Bastian situated himself on his own saucer, held steady by Kevin's helpful hands. "Thank you, Kevin." Bastian said politely, and pushed himself forward, only to be halted by Kevin. "Wait till Aiden's off the hill, don't want anyone getting hurt now." Kevin cautioned, and pushed Bastian on his way down the hill as Aiden stepped aside. Bastian leaned to one side, causing the saucer to spin and he screamed with delight. The saucer began to gather speed as it whipped down the hill. Too late, Bastian realized the nearness of the house and put out his legs to try and slow his descent. He let out a small cry of alarm as he thudded painfully into the wrestling mats. The air rushed from his lungs on impact and his yellow-clad head thumped the mat. He heard a scream behind him and turned to look up the hill. Zeke was heading down the hill again at top speed. Bastian tried to roll to his feet, but his saucer, full of snow lay atop his legs and he couldn't get up. Zeke fell backwards off his sled again and it shot towards Bastian. He heard several screams, one of them his own. Pain blossomed in his throat and suddenly he couldn't breath. He heard Kevin yelling from the top of the hill, heard Mary and Jane Morris screaming shrilly in terror. The back door to Mr. Roberson's house flew open and Mr. Roberson himself flew out into the backyard wearing only sweatpants and a bathrobe. Everyone was running towards him. Something must be wrong. He began to cry. Ralph Roberson had heard the screams outside his backdoor while making breakfast. He loved to watch the neighborhood kids playing in his backyard, having lost his wife and child years ago to a drunk driver. The screams he heard were not the usual screams of exhilaration, but of pain and horror. He leapt out to the backyard to see little Sebastian Blackmoore collapsed at the wrestling mats. A blot of crimson stained the snow and the bright yellow scarf around his neck. His gray eyes were glassy with shock as his lifeblood leeched into the snow. "Oh shit, no." He cursed to himself and ran towards the boy. "Kevin!" he barked, "Call 911!" Kevin slid down the hill and into Ralph's kitchen. He heard the boy pick up the phone. Ralph knelt at Bastian's side and carefully pried away the yellow scarf from around his neck. A fountain of blood spurted into the air, eliciting another shriek from the gathered children. Ralph looked up at them, "Get home you kids, now! No more sledding!" He regretted his harsh tone. He spotted Aiden's red and black hat at the back of the crowd. "Aiden! Go get Sebastian's mom. Hurry!" He turned back to Bastian and saw his breath heaving as he struggled to draw breath. Bastian's throat was cut just under the chin and the blood frothed as he tried to inhale. Ralph didn't hesitate and clapped his hand across the wound, feeling the blood and bubbles hot against his skin. Bastian's eyes had lost some of their glassy look and stared wildly into his, beseechingly. "Don't worry, Sebastian. You'll be okay. You'll be okay." Ralph said, as much for Bastian's benefit as his own. Kevin peeked his head out the back door, phone to his ear. "They're coming, Mr. Roberson. The ambulance is on its way. They said it might take a while, cuz of the snow," he said, voice trembling. "Tell them to hurry, Kevin. Tell them to hurry." Ralph said, staring into Bastian's eyes. Mercifully, Bastian blacked out. Marjorie Blackmoore arrived three minutes later having sent Aiden home to his father after he came crying to her. Ralph tried to explain to Ms. Blackmoore what had happened. The entire time, he kept a steady pressure on the gash in Bastian's throat, and never took his eyes off the boy's chest as it hitched in and out in his attempt to garner air. Marjorie was almost in shock herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. The paramedics arrived a few long minutes later and whisked Marjorie and Bastian Blackmoore off to Kingston Hospital. Bastian was in surgery for five hours, attempting to repair the damage done to his larynx and trachea. He had lost a lot of blood and needed two transfusions, as well as his lungs suctioned free of blood. The surgeon, Dr. Helmickie, came out of the operating room, a serious expression on his haggard face. He was an older gentleman, with graying brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and an almost stork- like appearance. "Sebastian has undergone a lot of trauma. The sled crushed his larynx and almost severed his trachea. We were able to recover his thyroid and parathyroids, as well as close up the wound, but recovery will be long and arduous for him. His larynx was irreparably damaged; he may never be able to talk again. We're going to keep him here for several dies to ensure he's healing. We'll also put you in touch with therapists to aid you both in this trying time." Dr. Helmickie explained gravely. Marjorie began to sob disconsolately and he awkwardly attempted to comfort her. Bastian awoke from anesthesia disoriented and afraid. He didn't recognize his surroundings and his throat throbbed painfully. He tried to raise his hand to his throat and found he was strapped securely to a hospital bed. A nurse had noticed his movements and loomed over him. "You're awake I see. Easy now, Sebastian. You're safe. You're in the hospital. Do you know why you're in the hospital?" she asked him in a grandmotherly voice. Her white hair was pulled back into a bun and her face was lined with wrinkles. She placed a comforting hand on his arm. Bastian tried to answer her, but his throat hurt too much so he stopped. Tears formed in his eyes. He looked back at her, lower lip trembling. "Here now, little one. It's okay. My name is Agnes, and I'm going to take good care of you. Your mommy is outside talking to the doctor. You woke up faster than we thought you would. They tell me you had a sledding accident. Isn't that right?" she brushed the thick black hair back from his forehead. Bastian nodded very slightly, wincing at the pain. "Don't try to move too much, and don't try to talk, you hurt your voice and it has to heal. I'm going to give you some medicine to make you feel better." For the first time, Bastian was aware of the needle in his arm attached to an IV drip, and the oxygen tubes in his nose. He was also aware of an unpleasant pressure in his bladder. He had to pee. Agnes began to draw up a syringe from a small glass bottle and he waved his hands desperately to get her attention. She noticed his movements and looked over at him. "What's wrong?" Bastian screwed up his face and pointed to his crotch, wiggling his hips and shimmying his legs, hoping she would understand. Evidently Agnes was familiar with the horizontal pee-pee dance and her mouth dropped open in an "O" of realization. Bastian blushed with shame as she lowered the sheets and placed a collecting jug between his legs. "Don't be ashamed now. You don't have anything I haven't seen on my own boys before." She reached between his legs and propped his penis on the lip of the collecting jug. He shivered at her cold hands and impersonal touch and tried to pee. Finally, pain overcame embarrassment and he managed to force the flow and emptied his bladder. She gave his penis two shakes and removed the jug, patting his hospital gown in place over his crotch. Bastian blushed again and averted his eyes. Agnes finished drawing up the syringe of painkiller and injected it into the IV port. Slowly, Bastian faded into unconsciousness. Bastian slowly came back to consciousness. Someone was crying in the corner of the room, and in the moonlight from the window, he could see his mother weeping. Bastian's eyes began to tear and his bottom lip began to quiver. He let the tears come even if they hurt his throat. Marjorie looked up to see her boy crying and wiped her eyes. "Oh my poor, poor baby-boy. Oh Bastian." She fluttered about him, trying to hug him without hurting him and ended up laying a multitude of kisses all over his face. Her own hot tears splashed against his skin as she leaned over him. "It's okay, baby. Mommy's here now. You're gonna be okay." Slowly Bastian's tears trickled away and he fell into a deep slumber as Marjorie gently stroked the thick locks of black hair from his forehead. She studied her young son, with his long silky lashes and pug nose. His round cheeks were stained red with what she called angel-kisses. His throat was swathed with thick bandages. His little body lay still beneath the sterile white hospital sheets. She turned from him for a moment and took the few steps to where her bag was. She took a plush stuffed wolf from the bag and placed in the crook of his left arm. She pulled the hospital chair closer to his bed and sat watching him sleep until she succumbed to exhaustion. The next few days were filled with tests and medications, sleep and pain, family and visitors. Granny Eleanor, his maternal grandmother, came to see him on his second day, having taken the bus up from Long Island, which she hated to do. She was a no-nonsense type of woman, with wavy pale gray hair combed back from her face. She gave him a kiss and a slight hug before shooing her daughter home to sleep. Then she pulled out her knitting needles and made him a new yellow scarf as he slept. Shamus and Aiden McKennough came to see him too. Aiden looked at the bandages with wide eyes, and the tubes emerging from Bastian's nose seemed to scare him as he turned into his father's leg in fear. Shamus patted his son, and his son's best friend to comfort them both. A tall blond man came in with Zeke, and Bastian figured it must be Zeke's father. Zeke came over to Bastian and apologized through streaming tears. Zeke's father conversed in hushed tones with Granny and Marjorie. Soon they left too. Bastian was very surprised when Ralph Roberson and Kevin Haines came in to see him. Ralph smiled down at him and told him he was glad he was okay. Kevin smiled sadly and nodded. Both of them apologized too. Ralph talked to Marjorie for a few minutes before taking Kevin home. These visits were interspersed by visits from the doctor and nurses. They took blood samples several times, and changed the dressing over his wound, and put him into medicated slumber. Sometimes a different doctor would come to examine him and ask him questions that he would nod or shake his hand at. Bastian's recovering was long and slow. Although the wound healed completely in a couple of weeks, he had lost the ability to speak. The hospital provided Marjorie with a special teacher, one that would teach them both sign language and help Bastian learn to write at a faster pace. Bastian was a smart boy, and despite his negative outlook on things, quickly picked up both sign language and handwriting. Granny Eleanor helped as well, after the teacher went home. Her sister had been struck deaf and mute by a bout with polio, and she had learned sign language to communicate with her. Grandpa Guy helped in his own gruff way. He was a big man of Quebecois descent, and made instruments for a living. "Cher," he began in his heavily accented bass, "I have something for you. You may not be able to talk, but that doesn't mean there are other ways of communicating." He produced a violin case from behind his back. "I made this for you, and I will teach you to play it. Now you can talk with your music." He pulled Bastian into a fierce hug and patted him on the head. Bastian smiled widely at the present. Ever since he had seen the great Itzhak Perlman on public television, he had loved the violin. He took the violin eagerly out of its case and held it gingerly with his chin. His throat no longer hurt him, but there was a scar. He brought the bow across the strings, producing a painful caterwaul. Grandpa Guy guided his fingers and hand to produce a more accurate chord and Bastian smiled hugely again, hugging his grandfather tightly. Sadly, Bastian had to stay out of school for several months while he recuperated and learned new ways of communicating. Marjorie kept him sequestered inside the house, afraid to let him out for fear of his being hurt and unable to call for help. Bastian didn't see any of his friends, and began to grow depressed. Marjorie lost her job as a waitress and was unable to keep the house they lived in. She took Bastian and moved in with her parents in rural upstate New York very near the Vermont and Canadian borders in Rouses Point on Lake Champlain. The years passed, and every year on the fourteenth of January, Bastian and Marjorie would cry together.