Date: Sun, 30 Jan 2022 23:12:50 +0000 (UTC)
From: Samuel Stefanik <churchphilips@yahoo.com>
Subject: Crown Vic to a Parallel World: The Beginning. Chapter 18

PRESENTING...drum roll please...Chapter 18.  I just rewrote this one a bit.
I made the intimacy a little more intimate.  I don't know.  Thoughts?

If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please
close up now and have a great day!  If you are of legal age and are
interested, by all means keep going.  I'll be glad to have you along for
the journey.  Please donate to Nifty.  This is a great resource for great
stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.

18

Sex, Scars, and the Hard Part

"Sounds like I'm pretty beat the fuck up."  I said as Shawn drove us onto
the road from the main gate of The HALL compound.

Shawn spoke to the windshield, either because he didn't want to see how I
was going to react to what he planned to say, or because he was unwilling
to take his eyes from the road.  "I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know
how.  I was upset about my mistake and the link and everything.  I didn't
want to say, `oh, by the way,' and give you a bunch of bad news.  Preacanto
started your power and you destroyed the test equipment and I got scared.
I'm sorry for not telling you.  I'm sorry for being afraid of you."

I looked over at the bloody handprint I'd left on his shoulder when I
thanked him for saving my life.  None of it seemed very important compared
to that.  "I forgive you.  I'm sorry I rode you for it last-night.  I
didn't know what else to do."

"You were right." He admitted to my surprise. "What you said gave me a lot
to think about.  I knew I had to figure out how not to be afraid of you.  I
knew I was being irrational, but seeing all that energy...was a lot to
process."

"Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, it scares the hell out of me
to."  I held my hands up to my face, the hands that discharged power beyond
measure.  I couldn't believe they were the same scarred hands.

"This thing we're doing," he whispered, like saying it aloud would somehow
make it worse, "I just have to remember that it's more important than
anything I feel, or any doubts I might have."

He felt determined and optimistic.  I didn't know what optimism felt like
first hand, but it was nice to feel it, even if it wasn't mine.  "I missed
you."  I admitted.

"I missed you.  I was lonely yesterday.  You were obviously busy.  I like
the new look."

I spun my watch on my wrist and decided I'd had enough serious conversation
for one day.  The time was right for some silly.  "Yesterday was weird.  I
found out that here, barbers can put hair on your head as well as take it
away, and hot chicks will hit on men while they're shopping."

I spent the rest of the ride back to the hotel telling Shawn about my
shopping trip.  I did my best to make everything sound as outlandish as
possible.  I wanted to hear him laugh.  He laughed easily and recklessly.
I figured that meant he was over his fear.

* * * *

I flopped on the couch as soon as we got into the room.  "Now we have the
whole day.  What should we do with it?"

Shawn looked out the window by the desk, his fingertips made little circles
on the shiny, white surface of the furniture.  "I should be tired." He said
like he was leading up to something. "All that power I used this morning
before I realized I could draw from you...I should be exhausted.  I'm not.
I think being a conduit for your magic recharged me.  Your
magic...it's...there's so much of it.  It made me feel...I don't
know...like I could do anything."

The emotional feedback I was getting from him as he talked was strange.
His feelings were curious, unsettled like he was thinking something over.
His fingers glided over the surface of the desk in broader circles, then
they stopped.  "I think I'm going to work on your heart." He said to the
window. "You'll feel better and taking care of those leaking valves will
lower your blood pressure.  When I'm done, we'll test your endurance."

I turned to the blank wall that was an unlit screen.  "If you think I'm
going for a run, you're wrong."  I grumbled.

He moved from the window and came toward me.  He came all the way over to
me and kept coming even after his shins contacted the front of the couch.
The walk became a short climb as he knelt on the couch straddling my lap.
He pressed his torso to mine.  I leaned my head back to look in his face.
He held my head and threaded his fingers through my long hair.  He seemed
to enjoy doing it, and his enjoyment made me glad I'd gotten the long hair.
I felt his breath on my face.  "I thought I'd work on your heart.  When I'm
done, we'll test your endurance."  He said again and planted a kiss on my
forehead.

My mind raced as a warm wave of his desire enveloped me. `Oh god, oh god,
oh god, Oh God, OH God, OH GOD!' It cried.

"Ooooohhhhh..." he groaned as my lust ignited and washed over him.  He
leaned his forehead against mine and looked inside me with his frozen eyes.
"Maybe we should check your endurance before and after."  He breathed.

"For...aaaaahhhhhmmm...science."  I gasped as he kissed my neck.

"For science."  He breathed and captured my mouth with his.

* * * *

We had sex for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon.  After the
first round, he fixed my heart, and we went again.  Half-way through the
second round, I found myself on my back with Shawn on top of me.  He was on
his knees between my legs, topping me with just the motion of his hips so
he could keep his face in mine and we could kiss while we made love.
"You're so beautiful." I said to his shimmering, sweaty face as his raven
hair fell around both of us like a fine lace curtain.

He smiled at the compliment and licked the end of my nose with the tip of
his tongue in appreciation.  He kissed me and I savored the saltiness of
his mouth.  When he took his tongue back, he smiled at me again and brought
his right hand up to my face.  He ran his soft fingers over my cheeks and
across the bridge of my nose.  My face felt warm for a moment, then the
feeling faded.  He'd done something, but he didn't say what it was.  "What
did YOU do?" I asked.  My question came out unevenly as he chose the moment
I was asking it to bury his length inside me.

"A little present," he breathed over my face, "I took care of those burst
capillaries in your face.  They won't come back now that your blood
pressure is normal."

`Polishing a turd.' I thought to myself, but I didn't say anything.
Instead of negativity, I gave into the moment and wrapped my arms around
him to pull him against me, like I never wanted to let him go.  He read my
grip as enthusiasm and upped the intensity of his fucking to our mutual
enjoyment.  Somewhere around two o'clock we broke apart from whatever round
we'd just finished.  After the second round, we'd moved to my bed and
that's where we found ourselves, laying together, panting.  My arm was
around him; his head used my bicep as a pillow.  "How many was that?" He
asked.

"I...uh, I...uh," I stammered while my overhauled heart hammered merrily
away in my rebuilt chest and my new lungs caught my breath as easily as a
sprinter would catch a man on crutches, "four, I think."

"I think that's right."  One of his hands pointed vaguely around the suite
while the other kept score.  "Yes, four."

"Why?"  I asked.  I was keeping a running tally, but I didn't know why he
would.

"What's the most you ever went in your life?"

I had to think about that.  It had been a long time.  I had to think way
back to my senior prom to recall sex with another person.  "Twice.  I have
lasted three times, but I was alone and it was a rainy day."

He seemed to really be working hard on figuring something out.  I didn't
understand why it mattered.  I mean, I was surprised at the amount of
energy I had, but I figured it had to do with my new insides making my body
work the way it should.  It was a gift horse that I didn't plan to look in
the mouth.  Shawn wanted the answer though.  "My record with people is
three," he remarked, still deep in thought, "and never more than twice in a
row."

He thought some more without letting me in on his musings.  "Shawn...is
there a point you're getting to?" I asked.

He rolled into me and shoved himself up on his elbow.  "I feel like I could
go again."

"Great!"  I reached for him, but he pushed me away.

"NO!  I mean, I should be exhausted, so should you, and we're not.  Why?"
He laid a soft hand in the middle of my chest and left it there.  "I think
your magic is supporting us."

"Isn't that a good thing?"  I couldn't see where he was headed.  It was
more than plain that he was concerned, but the `why' eluded me.

"It might not be.  Over time, it could be bad...like the long-term effects
of a stimulant."

"Are you trying to tell me my magic might be like steroids?"

His eyes shifted around while he thought.  I assumed he was looking for the
definition of `steroids' in my memories.  "Yes," he said finally,
"something like that."

"So, what do we do?"

"Nothing."  He patted my chest and rolled to lay flat again.  "If we're
still here, we'll worry about it.  It will be a benefit you'll bring to the
team.  Having a constantly renewable power source on a fighting mission
doesn't sound like a bad thing.  I worry about the load it puts on you."

He didn't make me ask why.  He either felt my confusion or knew he'd have
to keep going for me to understand.  "Your body converts mass to magic.
There isn't enough magic to go around.  Anyone you get near, will draw
power from you.  I think that's why your overflow broke the catalyst this
morning."

"Why?"

"The whole world is calling for power.  Your body is pouring energy into
the environment in response."

"Like heat from a bonfire?" I asked.  His explanation called Beni's analogy
to my mind.  It seemed to fit.

He nodded against my arm.  "Yes, that's good.  You're the fire and everyone
is warming themselves on your heat.  The trouble is the amount of fuel it
takes to feed a bonfire.  We need to start monitoring your weight."

I laughed and heaved myself up.  I climbed off the bed and laughed harder.
I slapped my gut with a disgusted palm.  "I should be so lucky."  I went to
the bathroom and came back to get dressed.  "I'm hungry." I
announced. "Let's get some food up here."

"I'm serious about this."  He insisted and sat up to scowl at me.  "You
could be in real trouble."

"Shawn," I pulled a shirt over my head, "Shawn, there's at least sixty
pounds between me and looking damn good.  Probably another twenty before we
could even start to worry.  Your uncle wants us killing Pravus in a month.
There is no fucking way I'm gonna lose twenty pounds a week for the next
four weeks, especially with as hard as I work to stay fat.  Get dressed," I
clapped my hands, "hungry."

"I'm serious."  He insisted as he climbed out of bed.

"So am I." I teased. "You're the one worried about me losing weight and you
won't get dressed so we can eat.  I could waste away right here."

Shawn's face scrunched with revulsion as I pulled pants over my
sweat-slicked legs.  "Shouldn't we shower first?"

I marched to the sitting room, gathered his clothes, came back, and pushed
them into his hands.  "No.  Hungry now."  I pointed into my open mouth.
"You dress.  We eat.  Then wash."

He started dressing but the scrunch didn't leave his face.  "I call.  What
you want?"  I said, carrying the joke too far without meaning to.  "What do
you want?"  I asked again, once I'd turned off my inner caveman.

He wanted a pasta dish that sounded good.  I called and tried to order one
portion for him and a double for myself.  There was some of the standard
confusion about how to separate the meals.  I gave up and told them to just
send three portions, that we had a lunch guest.  When I hung up, Shawn was
dressed but clearly not happy about it.

"I wish you would have let me shower."  He complained and tugged at the
shirt that clung to his skin.

"I'm sorry."  I bowed to him.  "As punishment, when we do shower, I'll let
you make me wash your back."

He abandoned the discussion with a small shrug and we sat on the couch to
wait.  He took my left hand between both of his and traced the scars with
his fingers.  "What you said earlier, about not saving a world I'm not in,
that was sweet."

I didn't answer.  I wasn't sure it was something that needed an answer.  I
was also busy watching what he was doing with my hand.  Seeing his hands
next to mine, my paw looked like a pair of slip-joint pliers from the
bottom of the toolbox, that pair that gets used as a hammer more often than
it gets used as pliers.  By comparison, his hands were like fine surgical
instruments.  The metaphor was as heavy-handed as the moral in a children's
movie.  I was a disaster and he was perfect.

"I could take these scars away...if you wanted me to."  He offered.

I feared he'd read my mind, but I still wondered what it would be like to
have perfect hands, like his.  `Just more lipstick on a pig.' I thought and
refused.  "No, those scars aren't like the gin blossoms you erased.  I
earned those scars.  They're part of who I am and what I did to get here."

Shawn felt a little disappointed, but didn't press.  "I guess I could
understand that."  He said and stroked the back of my hand.  He didn't say
anything for a minute but the anticipation he was feeling told me that he
was building up to something.  I waited until it came.  "Church, are you
falling in love with me?"

I panicked and jumped off the couch, but I didn't know what to do next.  I
went to the windows so I'd have an excuse to look somewhere that wasn't at
him.  My watch leapt into my hands and stretched between my fingers.  My
mind threatened to tear itself to pieces as it argued with itself.  `Do I
love him?  How could I not?  He's perfect...beautiful and young and warm
and perfect.  But it's not just physical.  He's such a wonderful person.'

`But it's not fair for me to love him.' Half of me scolded the other
half. `If that's even what I'm feeling.  How the hell would I know?  What
does it even mean to love someone?  Even if I did know and did love him,
what could I offer him?  What could I add to a relationship?  No, tell him
no.'  "No."  I lied to the window and hoped Shawn would let it drop.

"You know you can't lie to me."  He said to my back.

I slipped my watch on and rubbed my face like I hated it.  He'd seen right
through me.  I reacted by getting angry.  I spun to face him and threw my
arms out wide.  "I don't know, OK?  Fuck, Shawn, with all the shit that's
happened since Wednesday night...I can't fucking believe that's all it's
been...HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW WHAT TO FEEL?"

My anger scared him.  He felt he'd done something wrong and tried to
apologize for the question.  "It's just, the way you said what you said to
my uncle...I just thought that...I don't know what I thought."  He trailed
off and shrank into the couch.

I felt like an asshole.  I sat on the couch and draped my arm around him as
part of my apology.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get upset or to upset
you.  In a perfect world I'd be six inches shorter, over a hundred pounds
lighter, twenty years younger, and much better looking."

He objected.  "But then you wouldn't be you."

"Exactly."

He patted my knee and apologized to my apology.  "I'm sorry for asking.
It's hard to love someone else when you hate yourself.  I should have
remembered that.  We'll figure it out when we get back from the mountain,
until then, let's just enjoy each other."

`Optimism and the familiar specter of self-loathing,' I thought, `that's
interesting.'  What he said needed much more thought, but room service
knocked on the door, effectively ending the episode.  We ate, then took a
playful teasing shower and lingered under the water.  When we finished, we
went back to the couch in just our robes to watch television.  At six I got
up and asked if he wanted to join me in the bar for dinner.

"Why go down?" He asked in surprise. "Why not call for room service?"

I pulled my watch off and closed it in my left palm.  I tried to explain
without exposing too much of myself and the harsh reality of my addiction,
but it wasn't something that was possible to do.  "I want the experience.
I want a bartender to bring my drinks and my meal.  I want to make small
talk with a stranger.  I want to search for my happy place in a quiet bar.
Doing it that way makes me feel like a person.  Sending down for a meal and
a bottle, makes me feel like the drunk that I am.  I'd like you to eat with
me but I understand if you won't."

The unsettled feeling fell upon him again and he wrung his hands in his
lap.  "Couldn't your happy place be here with me?"

I rubbed my neck with the hand that didn't hold the watch.  I dug deep for
an explanation that wouldn't sound like a petty rationalization.
"Shawn...me needing to go downstairs is not an insult to you.  You made me
very happy today.  I've made memories and felt feelings that I will
treasure.  I would like to stay here, with my arm around you, but I can't.
Even if I set aside the physical addiction that you said you could help
with, there's still the quiet time.  You will go to sleep, and I'll be
alone with my thoughts.  That's when the demons come.  Unless I can shut it
out with booze, I'll have to live it again.  I won't live it again, Shawn,
not even for you."

"The day you put that watch on."  He jerked his head at my clenched left
hand.

`He's seen it.' I thought with crushing shame. `I hoped he wouldn't.'  I
admitted he was right.  "Yes.  That was the worst day.  Even if I don't
have to live that one, there's still every day that came before it, and
every day that came after.  This day, today, the day you gave me, might be
the only day of my life I'd be willing to live over.  But my mind won't
give me this day.  It will be one of the others, and I can't bear to face
them."

I pried my hand open and slipped the watch back on.  "I'm going to get
dressed and go downstairs and pretend I'm a real person until I can't
anymore.  When I'm done, I'll come up here and go to bed.  I'd like you to
join me in the bar, but I understand if you won't."  I went to the bedroom,
without waiting for his answer, and left him alone to decide.

I felt him considering as I selected clothes and started to dress.  Shawn
was upset and a little sad.  He went to his room.  I glanced at the mess of
tangled sheets that made up my bed.  I thought about how fun it had been to
tangle those sheets.  I hoped he would eat with me but tried not to hope
too hard.  I finished dressing and opened the bedroom door to pass through
the sitting room on the way out of the suite.  Shawn was coming out of his
room, dressed and ready to go.  He paused and waited for my full attention.
"I'll have dinner with you," he said and averted his eyes, "but I won't
stay the whole time."

"I'll take what you can give me.  Thank you."  I opened the door and held
it for him.  Downstairs in the bar, Beni greeted me with a knowing wink and
saw to our every need.  I took it as easy as I could, sticking with
ginger-ale highballs instead of straight shots.  Shawn and I had a nice
meal together.  When it was done, Shawn excused himself to go back to the
room.

As soon as Shawn was out of sight, Beni appeared in front of me with a
straight double that I badly needed.  "Congratulations, sir." He said in
his low, deferential voice. "It looks like you managed to convince him."

I knocked my drink off in a lump and handed the glass back to Beni.  "Yeah,
well, I had an accident this morning and he had to save my life.  I think
seeing my blood convinced him I'm human, not a monster."

Beni took my empty glass away and returned with a full one.  "Was it worth
it?"  He asked.

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I answered.  "Yes, Beni, it was
worth it...four times."

He congratulated me again, shaking my hand between both of his.  In the
next moment, his face grew serious and he nodded at the glass on the bar.
"I take it this part is difficult for him."

I raised the glass and studied the amber in it.  "Yes, this is the hard
part."  "Do not despair, sir.  These things have a way of working out."

I appreciated his optimism but didn't share it.

* * * *

A couple hours later, after I'd achieved the level of incoherence I sought,
I left Beni and returned to the suite.

I stripped to my briefs and was struggling to untangle the sheets so I
could get between them.  Despite my best efforts, the sheets refused to
untangle.  I'd almost given up when a courtesy knock preceded Shawn's entry
into the room.  "Leave that alone and come to my room."  He said and took
my arm to lead the way.

I refused to be led.  I was embarrassed, the slurring alcoholic who can't
even straighten some sheets out.  I hated myself bitterly in that moment
and I wished Shawn would have just stayed in his room and left me
alone. "Why, you want to feel safe?" I asked snidely, lashing out at him
for my shame.

"No," Shawn said and pulled harder on my arm, "I want you to feel that
way."

If I wasn't so hammered, I might have wept at his kindness.  I almost did.
I followed him to his bed, and he tucked me in as gently as if I were a
child who'd had a bad dream.  He got in, put my arm around him, and settled
against me.  Shawn's emotions were sour and it took me a minute to figure
out why.  It was because he felt bad, but the feeling wasn't pity.  He felt
bad at my situation.  I hated that he felt bad because of me.  "I'm sorry
I'm so broken."  I whispered to the dark.

"Sssshhhh, just sleep, Church."

I shut my eyes.  Oblivion found me quickly.