"But I got an appointment!"
Murphy sighed again trying to keep his calm. "Alvarez. I told you ten minutes ago. It's not till three. It's now only twenty to. Too soon!" The chief officer studied Alvarez, stood before him at the station, trying to appear cocksure of himself but Murphy could see the tenseness around the eyes, notice the vein standing proud on the creased forehead. He was much too eager to go and see the shrink.
He had seen enough TV and real life to know that patients sometimes became fixated on their doctors. Hell, look at O'Riely! But could Alvarez be fixating on Sister Pete? Surely not, but maybe he should have a word with her just in case? He scoffed. As if she wasn't intelligent enough to notice if it was indeed happening. Alvarez showed indignation, obviously believing that Murphy was laughing at him. "Okay. Okay," calling over another Officer, he instructed, "Take him to Sister Pete's. He can wait outside. Just anywhere but here!"
Alvarez practically ran down the stairs ahead of his escort to the bars, waiting impatiently to be let out of the Emerald City. Murphy had that wondering look to his face again. Everyday something happened to baffle him, much of it amusing, more not so. He shook his head laughing to himself.
The Nun was far from Alvarez' mind as he hurried towards her office. He knew she wouldn't be there as she always seemed to take a break before seeing him as if she needed to fortify herself. He couldn't blame her, he knew he was fucked up big time and he did appreciate her help, although he never seemed to feel any better. But now he wanted to see someone else.
The only thought that had fixed in his mind was that he had to thank Beecher. That one moment when he had felt a soothing hand on his shoulder two days ago had at first frightened him but then, on realising it was an extension of one persons feeling for another he had, just for those all too brief seconds, relaxed. He had wanted to melt into that touch.
At first he had been suspicious, but looking at the man's face, searching for the angle, he had not found one. He was sure that Beecher's face had been open and honest, reminiscent of a time past. Alvarez was certain the man had wanted to help him somehow and that simple touch had. He had been able to feel it for hours afterwards. He had turned wanting, he didn't really know what, an affirmation? More contact? But the move had broken the contact as Beecher had stepped away. Reaching forwards the appearance of the Nun had pulled him back.
He had been relieved that she had finally turned up to listen to him as no one else would now he kept his distance from the Priest. He didn't want to think about 'Him', so he brought his mind back to thinking of Beecher. He'd thanked him later the same day but didn't think the man had heard or he hadn't cared. Could it all have been nothing? Had he blown the incident out of all proportion? He had to know!
Reaching the office at last, he made to enter but the Hack stopped him, "You wait out here!" Damn! He looked through the door and could see Beecher sat typing. What could he do? There was no point arguing with the Hack and pleading was out of the question so, instead, he set to standing there, practically bouncing from foot to foot then took up a pacing, biting at a thumb nail, this last action unconscious.
It worked, the Hack had soon had enough, his patience already thin having to work extra shifts to cover absent co workers. There was always a high level of absenteeism at this place and the Hack constantly regretted his move here. "Fuckin keep still!"
Alvarez ignored him pacing back and forth, one side of the narrow corridor to the other. "All right! Enough! You're making me want to piss!" The Hack opened the office door and grabbing the piece of scum, pushed him violently into the room. "Sit! Don't move!" and pointed to one of the chairs by the far wall.
Briefly glancing at Beecher, who had looked up at the disturbance, Alvarez obeyed and sprawled in the chair closest to the computer. "No talking," and at that, the Hack went to lean on the wall opposite the door. He didn't really give a shit if they killed each other, but could do without the paperwork.
Beecher resumed typing. Damn, he could really do without this. He could feel the eyes boring into his back. Only a quarter to three, he had a foreboding that Alvarez had somehow managed to get here early and it was to see him.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, broken only by the tap of keys and the sound of fabric rubbing against the chair as one of Alvarez' legs bounced up and down, the heel causing a muffled tapping against the carpet. Nerves or sexual tension was usually the cause of that and Beecher prayed that it was the former; he couldn't cope with the latter. He was past that, did not need any entanglements. Could not afford them.
"Beecher?" followed by the sound of a nail being bitten. He tried to tighten the vice surrounding his heart, tried to ignore that Alvarez had gotten up and moved cautiously to stand next to him. "Beecher," a bit louder and a hesitant hand on his shoulder, quickly removed.
Sighing in exasperation, he sat back in his chair, turning to look up at the younger man. "Yeah," non-committal.
Alvarez glanced at the open door then just as nervously down at him. "I...I just wanted to say Thanks. You know...for last time in here?"
"No need," he turned to go back to work, after all he hadn't done much.
But to Alvarez it had been a lot. "I tried before...but you didn't hear me," he sounded sad.
At least now Beecher knew he hadn't imagined it. "I heard you," he found himself admitting quietly. He was staring at the screen but didn't see it as he felt fingertips on his shoulder again, this time staying. He turned his head to look at the hand as if that would dislodge it then up into those eyes.
He saw it again. A yearning, almost a pleading and he felt the bands around his heart loosen as it missed a beat. He was confused again. Just what was it he was feeling? Sympathy? Compassion? Pity? Or was it hope? And what, he wondered was Alvarez feeling? What exactly did he want? What did he expect? Beecher had nothing to give, he assured himself. Nothing he wanted to give.
But those eyes. He had never really looked into them before. These two men rarely had much to do with each other, aware of the other's existence but that was about all. He felt that he could drown in those eyes, just as he had in a pair of clear blue ones in what seemed an eternity ago. Oh Fuck!
Alvarez very slowly reached down and gently took hold of the man's left hand, the hand that had touched him so deeply and guided it upwards, desperately hoping that Beecher would rise with it. He continued to look into that bright blue gaze, fearing that if he broke contact, the other man would pull away or worse push him off. His heart was beating so hard against his chest that he was certain that Tobias could hear it. Tobias, he thought the name, repeated it, this the first time he had ever really used it in connection to the man.
It had worked. Tobias was now stood before him unmoving. Frozen for a moment, left hand on shoulder, right hand holding the other's, he had an image of himself waiting to be waltzed or some other old time dance with him in the female, the led position. It was ridiculous but he couldn't afford to laugh, too much was riding on this. He felt a tentative touch at his waist. All he wanted right then was this man to hold him, to capture some of that feeling he had had before. To relax. To be able to relax and for an instant, lean on someone else, someone else's strength, to be held safe, reassured that he would be okay. That's all. Nothing more. Just to be held. To feel safe.
Still searching those eyes, but unable to read what was happening in them, he spoke begging with his soul that this person who knew pain, heartbreak, would not turn him away. "Por favor... Please...Can I hold you?" he could not bring himself to ask, to admit that he wanted it the other way around, this had been hard enough. Beecher gave no response but he didn't deny him either.
Still moving, oh so slowly, so he would not break the spell, Alvarez inched closer and reached around the slightly larger man, his hands coming up to rest on Beecher's shoulders, his face lightly resting against the other's bearded one.
They were stiff, awkward and Beecher didn't know why he'd let this happen. He was sure he could feel Alvarez' heart beating rapidly against his chest and could definitely feel the quick shallow breaths against his ear which spoke of anxiety and above all, desperation. He sensed all the man wanted was that bit of human contact he remembered craving in what seemed a previous life before his feelings had been smashed and trodden down. He could remember how he'd felt and if he could prevent that from happening to this man, who so nervously held him now, he would not deny him.
He could not let him go unanswered and also because Beecher realised that, yes, he did still indeed have a heart, he raised his arms and gently placed hands on Alvarez' back. He felt more than heard the man's breath being sucked in then a sigh so large he could feel it go all the way through him as suddenly, Miguel Alvarez relaxed against him.
His face buried itself in his neck and a weight seemed to lift from the man as Beecher found he had to brace himself as he held them both up. Miguel sank into him as if letting everything go. Somehow Beecher felt rewarded. It gave him a small sense of pride that he could still affect someone so greatly and in a good way.
A sob wracked the whole of Alvarez' body as he felt himself being hugged, a hand on the back of his neck, the other arm tight across his back. He sank further into the warmth, the strength he could sense holding him up. He was amazed that he could feel this, feel safe and secure. Nothing could touch him here in this man's arms. All he had wanted was a touch of kindness and now he clung on, never wanting the feeling to end.
Eyes closed, he could feel the man's pulse against his lips. He opened his mouth and pressed his lips tighter against the soft flesh wanting to taste but fearing he would be going too far and scare the man off in his need. So Alvarez slowly dragged his face upwards to rest his cheek on a shoulder, breathing into that neck. An intense moment of joy and relief at the hand on the back of his head holding him, cradling him as if to say, yes, this is where you belong.
Sister Pete had been surprised to say the least on entering her office, coming up short at the scene before her. She was about to break it up until she saw Miguel's face emerge from Beecher's neck. Eyes closed, he looked at peace. It was the first time she had ever really seen it. All the lines that would etch into his face when it screwed up, all the tension, the squinting she always saw around the eyes were gone. The only sign of his usual anxiety was his hands clutching at the other man's shoulders, digging in so hard that surely it must be hurting Tobias but he was still, just holding him.
She sensed that it was comfort being given and received, not anything sexual in nature and began to think furiously. She was also aware that if she made her presence known now it would embarrass both men and neither needed that. Retreating she backed into the corridor and speaking loudly, perhaps a little too loudly, she asked the guard how his family was. A few more pleasantries were exchanged and when she entered the office as if for the first time, it was to find Beecher looking up from his keyboard and Alvarez sat staring at the rose on his hand, a frown to his face. "Hello Miguel. Tobias would you leave us please?"
"Sure Sister," and as he left, she watched an idea forming.
=0=
"No. I'll say it again. No!"
"But Tim, think about this. It could just work." Pete was getting vexed which was rare but she was so sure her idea would work and after all, nothing else any of them had tried had and this would be good for both of them. "Miguel obviously feels comfortable around him and Tobias needs something, someone to care about. He would be a calming influence on Miguel and if..."
"Calming? And if what you're saying is true they'd only end up fucking each other!" McManus saw the look on the Nun's face. Abashed he added, "I'm sorry, but it's true!"
Peter Marie was perplexed, it was such a possible solution. "So what if they do?"
It was McManus' turn to be shocked. "You can't possibly mean that?"
"Yes, I do. After all they've been through, what harm would it do?" she thought she sounded reasonable enough.
"For one thing, it's against the rules!"
Pete laughed, "Oh, Tim. You're not so naive and anyway I don't think it's like that. It's two people in need who could possibly help each other."
"You seem to forget that these men are Criminals. They deserve all the shit that happens to them."
"I know you don't believe that and in any case, they are patients to me. They need help...a lot of it!" Ray had agreed it a reasonable idea although with some reservations but having convinced him maybe she should ask him to have a run at Tim who was being particularly obstinate. It had taken enough to get Miguel back into Em City and out of the psyche ward but this would work. She knew it.
McManus stood looking at her. "I'll think about it."
"Thank you, Tim," she said placing a hand at his shoulder before turning to leave. She smiled on her way out. She was winning. And he knew it.
==000==
TBC...
