Chapter 37

Dawn came too early.

The alarm on his phone, tucked under his pillow, woke Jackson, he stirred, stretched, remembered. Aaron slept on, undisturbed by the quiet noise. Jackson had set it deliberately early, he wanted to get as much into the van before Aaron woke, wanted to help, wanted to hide his distress. He slid from the bed, pulling on his tee shirt and boxers before creeping down stairs, needing coffee.

Even though it was early, it was almost full daylight; their bags were ready by the door, ready to go. He took his coffee to the double doors that led out to the decking, opening it, stood and listened to the silent morning. His hand strayed to his neck, to the new leather necklace, his fingers caressed the small ring, the circle of amber, he smiled...remembering, as a warm glow that had nothing to do with the weather spread through his body.

He loaded the van, there really wasn't that much to put in, but even so, without their clutter scattered, the chalet looked forlorn, heartless; something was missing, they were already missing.

He took coffee up to Aaron, and a second mug for himself, leaving it to cool as he showered quickly and dressed. Aaron was sitting up, nursing his mug, as Jackson returned from the bathroom, sat on the bed beside him, put his arm round his shoulder, drew him towards himself, into him.

He touched the bracelet he had fasted round Aaron's wrist the night before, ran his fingers softly over the leather, still hard and shiny with newness.

"It's a circle," he whispered. He moved his hand to his own circle of amber, touching it. "We both picked circles for each other; there is no ending to circles, Aaron. Today is only another curve of the circle." He looked at Aaron, looked at the tear logged blue eyes, trying to smile, trying to be brave.

Aaron took a deep, quavering breath; he was so close to tears – again – and he really didn't want to cry – again. Quickly leaning forward, kissing Jackson briefly, he escaped to the bathroom. He felt...raw...he needed a moment, a moment without Jackson, a moment when he wasn't beside him, being nice to him. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it, for a second he held his hands against his face, his fingers pushing into his eyes, stopping the tears from falling. Breathe, breathe deeply, he couldn't stop the day.

...

Neither of them looked back as the van rumbled slowly up the lane for the last time, going the short distance before stopping to pick up Hazel for the journey to the station. For the quiet journey to the station.

She had managed a few words with Jackson as he collected her bag; it was hardly a conversation, more a list of instructions; to take care, to take plenty of breaks, to keep his phone on, to text her frequently, to text Paddy, to look after Aaron – it was lovely by the way, the necklace.

But travelling the road to the station, no one spoke.

Hazel had wanted them just to drop her then leave, letting her wave them off, but Jackson insisted on staying until the train pulled out of the station, until the train disappeared around a curve in the line, disappeared south.

"Breakfast," he said to Aaron, nodding towards the station cafe, walking towards the door without waiting for an answer, knowing that Aaron would follow him if he moved decisively, knowing that Aaron would say he wasn't hungry if he gave him a choice. Sliding behind a table, he ordered two full fry-ups with extra toast and large coffees.

Aaron didn't want a fry-up, didn't want toast, when it felt like the world was ending. Ok, he knew that was overly dramatic, but if he didn't feel the drama in his head he might let bitter sadness spill from his lips, and Jackson didn't deserve that; it wasn't his fault today had come; it was inevitable and he couldn't fight it.

The plates that were put in front of them a few minutes later were tempting though; watching Jackson tucking in, Aaron tasted a mouthful, expecting rebellion from his stomach, suddenly he realised he was hungry, really, really hungry; and the fry-up was wonderful.

Watching him, Jackson saw the transition, saw him begin to relish the food, knew his decision had been a good one.

"Just don't do your food porn thing now," he teased, "it's far too early in the morning!"

"Spoil sport!" returned Aaron, starting on the toast. "How come you are always right anyway?"

"Right? About what?"

"This. Breakfast. Everything?"

"Ah, well, that is because I am one awesomely clever man. And you are not!" said Jackson, teasingly smug.

"But I'm very good between the sheets, or in the hot tub, or wherever you want me!"

"Mmmm, not really sure about that. I think I might need to try you again, just to make sure."

Aaron smiled at his lover; in stark contrast to such a short time before, his heart felt lighter, his mood was brighter, he didn't know how Jackson had managed it, how so often he could reach him through the dark mist of his thoughts, lift his mood, reach the very soul of him, but he was so glad he could.

...

Jackson was relieved the detour taking Hazel to the station meant their drive south was on a different road from the one they had taken on their leisurely trip north, he didn't think he could have borne to watch Aaron, watching the road they had taken...before...remembering. There would have been no escape from the memories for either of them, but he knew he was stronger than Aaron; at least this was a new road, a blank page.

The road ate up the miles, always south, always nearer the motorway when the miles would pass faster than even, always nearer Emmerdale. Aaron watched the miles counting down on the road side signs, watched their progress on the map held open on his lap, watched them move from page to page; always south.

"Let me drive for a bit," Aaron said as they sat in a cafe just off the main road, drinking coffee, "before we get on to the motorway."

"I dunno," hesitated Jackson.

"Just a little way," urged Aaron. "I'll stop straight away if I get too sore or anything. Please Jackson."

Jackson looked at him, at the hope reflected in his eyes, he knew how important this was to him, even before...before he had enjoyed sharing the driving.

"Ok, just for a few miles, but if you feel at all uncomfortable, we'll swap back."

It was better driving, Aaron thought a short while later, some miles down the main road. There was nothing to think of but the cars around him, the road in front of him; he didn't need to worry about where they were going, just getting there safely. He knew Jackson was watching him, waiting for the first sign, any sign of pain or discomfort, waiting to confine him to the passenger seat again, condemn him to his own awkward, painful thoughts. He could ignore the ache reaching into his back, for a few more miles, at least until Jackson warned him the motorway was just a dozen miles or so ahead; they needed to swap back before then, before it became too difficult to swap easily on the motorway.

Suddenly Aaron realised he was seeing road signs with English names on them. It wasn't even lunchtime, yet the border was rushing towards them; how could this be happening when they had taken days ambling north. Suddenly he hated motorways. But it was in his head now, every mile was bringing them closer, bringing the inevitable closer; they had talked about having another night, a last night in the van, but they seemed so close, it seemed so false. But how could he say that to Jackson?

By mid afternoon they had crossed the border, just a harsh sign on a motorway flashing by in an instant, no view, no photograph.

Another motorway service station, another tasteless coffee.

"Maybe we should just get home tonight." There! He had said them; the words were hanging in the air between them, laughing at him, taunting him. Aaron waited for Jackson's reaction.

"I thought we were going to have a night in the van?" questioned Jackson quietly.

"I think it would just be hanging over us too much, it would spoil it too much," replied Aaron quietly.

"If you are sure," said Jackson, looking at him, trying to read his expression, looking into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts.

"I just want it over with now," Aaron didn't know if that was explanation enough, even for himself, but it was all of an explanation he could find.

"So long as you're sure."

...

It was dark as they pulled up outside Smithy; Aaron was glad, he didn't think he could face anyone other than Paddy just now. They had stopped more frequently during the last bit of the journey and he had spelled Jackson a couple more times, but they were both tired.

Hardly had the van's engine died but the cottage door was flung wide leaving Paddy silhouetted in the light of the open door. Almost before Aaron realised, he was beside the van, opening the door, pulling him into his arms, hugging him, hardly letting him slide from the seat to the ground before hugging the very breath from him.

"You'll be exhausted...we got your text...I only picked Hazel up from the station a couple of hours ago...she's getting the kettle on" in his excitement Paddy jumped from one thought to another. Pushing Aaron from him then, Paddy held him at arm's length, looked at him, looked into his tired eyes, loved him.

Aaron dropped exhausted onto the familiar, comfortable sofa, Jackson beside him, his eyes already closing.

"Aaron! No!" exclaimed Paddy as he saw tiredness beginning to claim both of them. "You need to go upstairs – now – before you do anything else."

"Do one Paddy!" grumbled Aaron, slumping lower on the sofa.

"No, he's right, love, said Hazel, emerging from the kitchen with coffee for them all. "You need to go now – both of you," she added.

Grudgingly they dragged themselves up the stairs, to Aaron's bedroom, to their bedroom, pushing open the door, putting the light on.

Suddenly all thoughts of tiredness was banished, disbelief, surprise, delight, amazement jostled for dominance. There wasn't much space left in the room, but that didn't matter. Filling the room was a double bed, midnight blue covers welcoming them.

And on the bed, a card; "To Aaron and Jackson, with love, from Paddy and Hazel"