"Somebody broke in, all right."

Hank jerked awake at the sound of the voice. His arms were around Manny, sound asleep. The room was dark. He was disoriented. It had been getting light—was it night? Had they slept all day?

"See there? Window broken, door unlocked."

"Yeah, I see. Damn kids, they think they can do whatever they want."

The voices came from the floor below. Hank froze. He put his ear against the floor. Scraping and bumping sounds. Shit! His heart stopped, then resumed, bumping and banging. Hank shook Manny awake, but clamped his hand over Manny's mouth. "MMPH?" Manny's eyes snapped open, moving to see Hank.

"Ssssshhhh!" Hank kept his hand on Manny's mouth. "There's somebody downstairs," he whispered. "We can't let them hear us. When I take my hand away, do not say a word." He took his hand off Manny's mouth.

"What are you—" said Manny. Hank clapped his hand over Manny's mouth. They still lay on the floor.

"Not one goddamned word." Hank put his ear to the ground again. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Things being moved around. "There are people down there. They can't know we're up here."

Voice through the floor loud and clear. "Come here, Foster, somebody got into the fuse box."

Suddenly Hank couldn't hear anything but whispers.

Manny's eyes widened in fright. "Mmph?"

"Sssshh. We gotta move fast. Not a sound." Hank scrambled to his feet. He went to the window and peered out through the white wooden blind.

A police car.

"Hank—" Manny whispered. "What—"

Silently, Hank made his way out to the staircase. He craned his head around the corner and saw the two officers in their dark blue uniforms looking around the vestibule. They were opening and closing the door into the garage, checking around.

"Hello? Hello?"

"We gotta go." Hank bent over and gathered Manny into his arms. Manny was so small, it was easy to carry him like a child. For once, Hank was pissed that Manny couldn't walk on his own. Instead Hank had to hide him as if Manny was a dog in a no-pets house.

"But we just got here."

"Shh! Stop talking, Manny!" Going out on the porch was a bad idea. So was going into the other rooms, or the closets. Hank looked around wildly. Where the fuck were they supposed to go?

Terrified, Hank hustled Manny to the other side of the room. Kitchen cabinets? Too small.

The heavy footsteps were coming up the stairs. "Hello? Police!"

Hank backed away, Manny clinging to him, until his back bumped the wall. He turned his head.

Stairs. He'd forgotten the stairs to the roof.

One slow step at the time, Hank carried Manny backwards up the stairs, out of sight. He almost slipped on the carpet, but kept backing up. It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay. He felt the wooden door against his back. "You gotta hold on to me, okay?" he whispered into Manny's ear. "Put your arms around my neck. Hold on tight." With a tiny scared noise, Manny locked his hands around Hank's neck. Hank shifted so he could move his right hand backwards to the door and groped for the doorknob. Thank God, he'd left it unlocked. Sweat slid down his sides as he tortuously, slowly slid the door handle and then opened the door. Carefully closing it behind them, Hank stole quickly up the remaining stairs onto the roof deck.

The night sky was pitch black, no lights to illuminate the roads or the beach.

"Why don't you meet to meet them? We could cook dinner. Use the chairs."

"It's the police!" Hank whispered.

"The police? Oh, God...what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know. I don't know." Chairs. A table. A chaise lounge. None of it a damn bit of good. There was a skylight. Hank and Manny edged to the very outer edge. It looked down on the main living area. Thank God Hank had remembered to turn the TV off. He didn't want to run up the electric bill.

They could see the officers moving around, inspecting the room and the kitchen.

"Hello? Anybody there? Hello?" The cop's voice was muffled by the thick glass and the ocean roaring in the distance.

"Whoever was here, doesn't look like they stuck around. Nothing in the garage. Only thing I could find was the fuse box. Let's check the bedrooms."

"Police! If you're here, come out now! Is there anyone here? We're coming in!"

"Are they—"

Hank clapped his hand over Manny's mouth again. "Manny! If they find us," he whispered furiously, "they'll arrest us, we don't have any ID, we'll go to jail, shut the fuck up." Very slowly he moved his away from Manny's mouth, prepared to slap it back if Manny made one more goddamn sound. Manny nodded, pursing his thin lips together to show that he understood.

They could hear the cops moving through the second floor. Where the hell were they supposed to go now? With all of the powers he had, Manny couldn't fly; lighting his farts would set everything on the roof on fire.

The walls of the roof deck curled in at the top. The only thing Hank could think to do was to crouch down next to the wall to the left of the stairs. With any luck, the angle would hide them. He shoved Manny against the wall, straightening him out, then pushed up next to him, flattening them both against the wall. Manny's breath came in short, shallow gasps.

"Hank, I'm scared."

"I won't let anything happen to you, buddy, I promise," Hank whispered. Manny fell silent, arms folded against his body. He was so small, especially right now. Hank curled around him, shielding Manny's body from view. Don't let them find us.

It felt like hours before they heard footsteps clumping up the stairs, the door opening.

"This door isn't locked...POLICE! ANYBODY UP HERE?"

More footsteps coming up the stairs. A white flashlight beam cut through the night sky. Hank felt out of body, he was so scared. What would he do if they were found? They weren't taking Manny away, that was for damn sure. Scenarios flashed through his head like crazy-jumping off the roof; getting shot; the police station; jail; grabbing the cop's gun—

The beam passed above them, searching out the opposite corners of the roof. Hank watched as each corner was illuminated, wooden slats on each side. Where they were, the beam passed over the wall to the side. The cop must have been standing several stairs down. Hank felt Manny shaking. He put his hand on his beloved's arm, spreading out his fingers.

The beam swung wide again and swung back. Then it clicked off.

"There's nobody here. Maybe a squatter came for a couple of days, what do you think?"

"Doesn't look like anyone's been here to me. Phone the owner and tell him to get a locksmith out here."

Footsteps clumping down the stairs. Door opening and closing. More footsteps.

Hank didn't relax until he heard the police car doors closing and the car driving away down the graveled road. He let out a big whoosh of breath. He stroked Manny's arm. "I think we're okay, buddy," he whispered.

"I want to stay up here," Manny said in a shaky voice. "I don't want to go downstairs."

Manny rolled over, facing Hank, his arms still folded against his body. Manny's huge blue eyes looked into Hank's. "If you were taken from me," Manny said slowly, "I would die again. I'm not going to be empty."

"Don't say that! It's not going to happen, okay?" Hank put his hand to Manny's face. "It's not going to happen. I'm not going to let it happen."

Hank pulled Manny to him, wrapping his arms around Manny. They listened to each other's heartbeat returning to normal.

"It's not going to happen. We're together forever. Forever, okay?"

"Forever," Manny sighed. He nuzzled his head against Hank's shoulder. His dark brown hair smelled of sea air and sweat. Hank moved his head so that it was atop Manny's

Hank couldn't sleep. He stared out up the night sky, holding his sleeping beloved.