A/N: Ooooooh, you're gonna like this chapter... March Hare, you in particularly have been waiting for one certain scene for quite a while. Bwahaha! Thanks for beta reading, by the way, as if I didn't thank you already a bajillion times. Anyway, thank you all again for your reviews. I can't believe I have so many, and the story only has three chapters! Not counting this one, I mean. I also can't believe I've been writing this story so fast. Remember when I was taking forever to finish a chapter? Well, yeah, I'm sure you do. Most of the time it was following a really nasty cliffhanger. Dreadfully sorry about that! I'm guessing that I'm writing this so quickly because I really REALLY can't wait to write the last chapter. Ohhh, it's going to be great! Eee!
Reviewy answery time!
Lovely, Es, and A.Spencer: Thanks for all the 'get well'-related words in your reviews! My voice is still all wonky and my nose won't stop running, but at least I don't have a fever. Ha, take that, summer colds! And Es, thanks for the ice cream!
snowwolf: *looks around* Uh, I don't know, do I watch 'Kim Possible'? Actually, I've only seen it once or twice. Why do you ask?
Rosethorn: WHAT did I tell you guys about killing Laney before the story was over? *grabs the implements of death out of your hands* I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait. Hmm, this won't do all all. *haphazardly puts Laney back together with duct tape and paste* There, all better!
Arreiyenne: My, such diligent reviewing! I checked my email and saw fourteen new reviews! Thank you very much for your for your interest - and the cookies! - and I must say, I had fun reading all your comments.
Jezrael the Jealous: Hey, same goes for you, too! I know you haven't made any murderous advances on Laney yet, but let's try to keep it that way. Yes, that's it, destroy her in plushie effigy.
Silent Beatnik: Awww, a cockatiel? Cute! My sister has one, and it enjoys shiny things. *growls, remembering the blood blister she got when he tried biting off her ring*
Lady Arianna: *gasps* Profanity! Well, I never! *covers your mouth* Who's that Spartan with a dirty mouth? It's you! It's you! (Sorry, dumb reference to your name and a Saturday Night Live skit)
Settiai: CHOCOLATE!?! ...I mean, why thank you. This is much appreciated. *devours it instantly*
GoblinQueenie: PENDERGAST?!? *looks around* How do you know about Pendergast? Ahah, well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I must admit that I did use a teensy bit of Pendergast's character when creating Rhodes, but just the Southern accent. It's not like Rhodes is blond, or from New Orleans, or anything... Haha?
Ahem. I guess that's it. On another note, I didn't hear a lot of feedback on whether or not the next story should be from Rhodes' point of view. So heeeeere's what we're going to do. When you're done reading the chapter and you're writing your review, just tell me whether or not you think Rhodes narrating the next story is a good idea. All righty, we have that straightened out? Then on to chapter four!
Disclaimer: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the official author, owner, and proprietor of 'The Dying Detective'. (even though he's no longer with us) I'm just using the plot in my little exploit.
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Down the Rabbit Hole
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction
by Wakizashi
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Chapter Four: The Mock-Turtle's Song
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Christmas day that year was probably the most nerve-wracking holiday of my entire life. And I can still remember one Thanksgiving during which my grandfather, when he was alive, stepped on our cat, knocked over the Christmas tree, and fell asleep in one of the horse stalls.
It wasn't that it was a pain taking care of Rhodes; I was really very happy to do it. But he was getting steadily worse, and it was worrying my brains out. He didn't drink nearly as much liquids as he should have, he barely ate at all, and what was even more worrisome, he was complaining more and more that he was cold. And that didn't make a lick of sense, considering how warm his head felt.
It was nearly eighty degrees in his condo when Rhodes asked me to turn up the furnace again. I had already changed into a pair of shorts to combat the sweltering heat, and despite my concern for my partner, I was getting the distinct impression that he was only asking me to warm the house to see how many clothes I would shed. But of course that was ridiculous.
I was in the process of cranking up the thermostat on the second floor yet again when the phone rang. Without even thinking, I hurried to the nearest phone, which was in Rhodes' room, and picked it up. "Hello?"
A sullen, snotty voice on the other end spoke. "May I speak with Ethan?"
*Crap,* I thought, cursing my own forgetfulness. It hadn't even occurred to me that Laney would be calling again to see how Rhodes was doing. Then I remembered she had mentioned she would do just that. Keeping my voice cheerfully neutral, I asked, "Can I ask who's calling?"
"This is Laney. You know it is Laney."
"Mm-hmm," I answered blandly. "And what is this in reference to?" Rhodes, who was reading the newspaper in bed, looked up at me curiously.
Laney growled irritably. "Stop playing games, Nadia. Just let me speak with him."
I sighed. "Yeah, all right, keep your beret on," I said sourly, covering the mouthpiece with my hand. "It's your girlfriend, checking up on you," I told Rhodes as I held the phone out to him. I put extra emphasis on the word "girlfriend".
With a raised eyebrow, he took the phone from me and held it to his ear. "Hello, Laney," he said, folding the newspaper and lowering it into his lap. The good humor in his voice sounded strained. "Yes, I'm doing all right. Thank you for asking." What a liar. If anything, his condition was severely declining. "Ah, no, I don't think that will be necessary. I have Bridges here to take care of me..." There was a pause, and his eyebrows drew together. "Well, I don't think you have the right to judge her... Now Laney, that's just inexcusable. No. I will not allow you to speak of her that way."
The subject of their conversation was all too evident, and I couldn't help but smile. Rhodes was defending me.
"I am hanging up, Laney. I will see you when you decide to be civil." He pushed the end button with an angry jab of his finger and dropped the phone on the bed beside him, heaving an irritated sigh.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then I said casually, "I get the feeling she doesn't like me."
Rhodes pulled the cool washcloth off his forehead and set it aside, shaking his head. "I must apologize for her, Bridges. She still insists I should see a doctor, and it's obvious she's upset that I'm still refusing." He sighed again and raised the newspaper to his face. "She can be a little difficult at times."
"A little," I repeated with a dry chuckle. He joined in my laughter, and I pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. "Rhodes," I said quietly, not sure if I had any business asking this. But I had to know. "Why are you dating Laney?"
His eyes met mine above the newspaper, and I knew it had been a bad idea. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me," I said quickly. "It's not my place, I'm sorry I asked--"
"No no, don't be sorry," he interrupted, setting the paper down. "There's no need to be. But why do you ask?"
Oh goodness, so many reasons I could think of, Rhodes. Because you normally despise women like Laney. Because you're too intelligent to fall for someone like her. Because you've overlooked the one woman who would do anything for you. But of course I could give him none of these reasons, so I just shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know, I just... She doesn't seem like she's your type, that's all."
To my surprise, I felt his hand gently tilt my chin up. My eyes grudgingly met his, and I was stunned to see him gazing at me with a warm intensity I had never seen before. I felt my cheeks flush, and my heart started thudding in my chest. Unless I was losing my mind, and I couldn't discount the possibility, that look in his eyes was unmistakable.
"My dear Bridges," he whispered, tracing my jawline and making the pounding of my heart almost unbearable. "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us. Soon you'll understand."
He let his hand fall away from my face, and despite my racing pulse I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion at his words. Why was he being so cryptic? My mouth struggling to form words, I stammered, "W-what do you mean?"
But Rhodes had already raised the newspaper to his face, as if nothing had happened. He turned a page carelessly, and his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Hmm, interesting," he murmured. "Researchers are genetically altering lab mice for autism studies."
"What?" I felt like screaming my frustration. "Rhodes! What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
But nothing more was to be gained from this maddening conversation.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I didn't talk to Rhodes any more than necessary until that night. I knew I wouldn't get any information out of him, and to be honest, I was a little angry with him. There was something he was hiding from me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. So I simply stopped prying. If he didn't trust me enough to let me into his confidence, then that was his problem.
Instead I spent the rest of the day downstairs, catching up on my reading. Occasionally I brought Rhodes tea, or re-soaked his washcloth, but there was little else I could do for him. He wouldn't eat anything, but he refused to see a doctor. I could already tell he had lost weight.
At eight o'clock that evening I resolved to do something about it, whether he liked it or not. I went into the kitchen and, despite the oppressive heat in the house, turned on the stove and warmed up some tomato soup. If nothing else, Rhodes could at least get some liquid down. Pouring the hot soup into a thermos, I took it upstairs and knocked on his door.
"Hey Rhodes, hope you're decent," I said, pushing the door open with my free hand. "It's dinner time, and God knows it's been a while since you ate something. I brought you some-- Oh my God, Rhodes, what's the matter?"
My partner was sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over as if in pain. His normally pale face was flushed and damp with perspiration, and his arms were folded in front of his chest, his hands balled into fists. Nearly forgetting about the soup, I quickly set it down on the table before I dropped it.
I knelt next to Rhodes, my hand on his knee. "Rhodes, are you okay? This isn't funny, tell me what's wrong!"
"I... I'm not sure," he replied, his voice tight. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I ache... My back, shoulders, arms... legs. Muscle spasms, or cramps, or something. I don't know." He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. "God."
A sick feeling washed over me. *Good Lord, what next?* I thought desperately. "Don't worry, I'm trained for just this sort of thing," I assured him. Climbing onto the bed, I sat behind him and began rubbing his gaunt shoulders. His muscles were like sacks of rocks, and they refused to relax under my hands. His shirt was too thick, and it was interfering as well. "This isn't working. Take off your shirt," I ordered crossly.
Rhodes' head whipped around at that, regarding me with what could only be embarrassment. "Bridges," he said uncomfortably. "You don't have to--"
"Who's the licensed massage therapist around here?" I interrupted impatiently. "Now unless you want to remain in agony, do as I say and take off your shirt."
My less than courtly bedside manner was enough to get him moving. Pulling the shirt over his head with nervous, twitchy fingers, he shook it out and tossed it on the floor. As his thin but powerful arms flexed, I could see his taut muscles moving beneath his pale skin.
"Now lie down on your stomach."
With a sigh, Rhodes did as he was told, lifting his bare feet off the floor and stretching out on the bed. The light from his floor lamp was dim, but it was more than sufficient enough for me to take in my partner's glorious physique. Since they were given no other choice, my eyes couldn't help but roam over his lithe shoulders, his slender waist, the graceful curve of his spine.
Please believe my when I say my attraction to him had nothing to do with looks.
Okay, so I'm totally lying. In fact, as he settled himself into a comfortable position, I bit my lip in my hesitation. This was precisely why I had never given Rhodes a massage before. Just the thought of touching his naked back made me fearful of where exactly my hands would decide to wander. But right now he was in pain, and my apprehension was just going to have to take a back seat.
Taking a deep breath, I took off my rings and set them aside. After I rubbed my hands together and realized I was just stalling, I reached out slowly and laid my hands on Rhodes' back. His lean muscles flinched slightly at my touch and sent a shiver through me.
Forcing myself to remain under control, I shook my head and began loosening his shoulder muscles with the heels of my palms, being careful not to knead the tissue too hard. As I worked, I felt some of my nervousness leave me. The muscles, although they were tight and strained, began to relax as well. I moved my hands to his shoulders and upper arms, wishing all of my male clients had his body.
"You know," I said, my voice sounding unexpectedly loud in the silence, "your back and shoulders wouldn't be so stiff if you didn't slouch all the time."
Rhodes' body shook with a silent chuckle. "Must you reprimand me at a time like this?" he said, his tone light and easy. "Although I daresay you're right. But I'm sure that's not the only cause."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I know. Remember the Foo Fighters concert, when you lost your shoes? I'm surprised you could even stand the next morning."
He made a noise of mild irritation, and I decided to drop the subject. The tragic loss of his shoes was still a touchy subject. Instead, I continued kneading his shoulders, content to let the silence replace our awkward conversation. Several minutes passed, and when his muscles finally began to loosen, I massaged my way slowly down his long, wiry frame. At last I reached his lower back, just below the waist, and started to work at breaking up the knots in his muscles.
His reaction made me jerk my hands away in surprise. A soft moan of enjoyment, almost like a purr, came from deep within Rhodes' chest, followed my a long sigh. "Mmmm," he mumbled again. "That's good."
Biting back a nervous laugh, I blotted my damp palms on my shorts. *It would be really good if he didn't do that again,* I thought, taking another deep breath. It felt like there was a giant rock in my stomach. Forcing my hands to return to their position on his lower back, I resumed my ministrations.
Rhodes immediately moaned again, a little louder this time. I winced and fought the urge to bolt for the door. "I must say, Bridges," he murmured, his voice low and thick. "You certainly have quite the talent."
All right, that's enough; sorry, but our time is up. "Okay, you know what?" I said loudly, giving his back a jaunty pat with my hand. "I think you're done. Your muscles aren't so tense anymore, and you're clearly feeling better."
With a regretful sigh, Rhodes pushed himself up, giving me a full view of his sinewy torso. It was all I could do to keep my eyes fixed on his face instead of directing their attention downward. He gave a great, catlike stretch, his neck popping loudly. "Thank you, Bridges, for that most relaxing treatment," he said with a languid smile. "I really do feel much better."
"Happy I could help," I replied, returning Rhodes' smile despite my supreme discomfort. My hands still had the residual memory of being on his warm skin. "I'm glad all my studies have not been for nothing." As I crawled off the bed and stood up, I was incredibly conscious of my friend's proximity. "Well, I'm going to put your soup in the fridge for tomorrow, since it's pretty obvious you're not going to eat it. I'll be right back."
And so I left him, aware that his brilliant eyes were following me out the door. I walked down the hall and descended the stairs calmly, but as soon as I reached the kitchen and put away the thermos, I closed the refrigerator door and slumped heavily against it.
One thing was for certain: if Rhodes knew how much that massage had affected me, he would never have the courage to look at me again. I couldn't get the image of his lean, slender body out of my head, and every time I closed my eyes to block it out, it only returned a thousand times clearer. And his contented moans... sweet fancy Moses. I had never wanted him more.
There was one small - well, actually, *large* - problem, though, and that was the fact that Rhodes already had a girlfriend. Feelings or no, there was absolutely no way I was going to steal him from another woman, no matter how much I disliked her. Rhodes was just going to have to figure out by himself that he and Laney went together like peas and ice cream. And when he did, I would be there to set him on the right path.
But that got me thinking. What if Rhodes *already* knew Laney was wrong for him? That would explain his enigmatic remark to me. What had he said, exactly? "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us."
I frowned. *Sorry, Rhodes,* I thought. *But you've given me no other choice.*
Heaving an exasperated sigh, I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs yet again. As annoyed and confused as I was, I had taken it upon myself to be with Rhodes through his mysterious illness, so that was what I would continue to do. I padded quietly down the hall, shaking my head in amazement at the thermostat, and pushed his door open.
One emotion quickly shoved aside my other feelings: gut-wrenching fear. My partner was sitting on the hard wooden floor, his entire body wracked with violent shivers, trying unsuccessfully to pull his shirt over his head. A panicked gasp escaped me, and I knelt beside him and helped him into his shirt. "Oh, God, Rhodes, what's wrong? What is it now?" I asked, my voice bordering on hysteria.
"F-freezing," he stuttered, his teeth chattering quite audibly. He leaned into me for warmth, and I instinctively drew my arm around him.
"How can you be cold?" I said desperately, my head spinning. "It's at least eighty degrees in here! Come on, let's get you under the covers." With his assistance, I pulled him shakily to his feet. As I drew back the heavy bedclothes, he collapsed on top of the big mattress, drawing deep, shuddery breaths. "Hang in there, I'm going to get some more blank-- whoa!!"
Reaching out with one hand, Rhodes unexpectedly snagged me around the waist and pulled me onto the bed beside him, holding me tightly against him in a last, pathetic effort to get warm. My face flamed with embarrassment as he pulled the covers over both of us with slow, stupid fingers. "Rhodes," I protested awkwardy, my protestation all too evident as I uttered the single word.
"I hope you'll forgive me for this indiscretion, Bridges," he muttered, his words slurring together as he tugged me closer still. "I'm just so cold; I can't think of any other way to fight it off."
My heart felt a stab for him, and my discomfort slowly melted away. *The poor thing,* I thought, my eyes stinging with tears. How long was he going to keep suffering like this? "It's okay," I told him softly, shifting onto my back to allow him to rest his head on my shoulder. "Whatever helps you feel better."
I could feel his shivers slightly abate as he draped his arm over my stomach. He let out a little sigh, his breath on my neck causing me to shiver myself. "I don't deserve you, Bridges," he murmured.
"Sure you do," I said, stroking his hair.
Rhodes shook his head minutely. "No, I don't." He was silent for a while, but then suddenly he lifted his head until he was staring down into my face. His arm was still wrapped tightly, almost needily, around me. "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asked.
My chest tightened. "N-no," I said slowly, swallowing hard.
"Hmm." Still gazing down at me, his face drew closer. That warm, sincere expression he had worn earlier had returned. "I should have," he whispered.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. *Oh, God, this is it,* I thought frantically. Laney or no Laney, there was no mistaking it: Rhodes was going to kiss me. And, strangely enough, I had no qualms about it. Out of nowhere, his words from my dream came back to me, repeating over and over in my head.
"It's only a matter of time, Bridges..."
I lay perfectly still, returning his gaze, as he dipped his head down. His wonderful green eyes slid slowly shut, his nose brushed against mine...
...and then his head fell heavily on my shoulder, his face buried in my throat. Still holding me in his bridegroom embrace, his breathing came out evenly, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out just what the hell had happened: Rhodes had fallen asleep. We were *millimeters* away from kissing, and he had fallen asleep.
Biting back a curse, I reached up and turned off the floor lamp that stood behind the headboard. The shadows enveloped the room, and the only sound that reached my ears was the easy breathing of my sleeping friend. Sighing inconsolably, I rested my hand on Rhodes' back and traced a slow, lazy circle.
"Pleasant dreams, my love," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: *whips out her umbrella in self-defense and prepares to be pummeled with rotten fruit* Yes, I know, crappy ending for everyone who has been waiting ages for them to kiss. But don't worry, they will soon enough! And if you're still mad... just read the dream sequence over and over. Ahem! Well, hope you liked it despite its shortness and the cruel, cruel ending. I'm aware that I suck. Review please, and be gentle with me! Even though I don't deserve it! Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
Reviewy answery time!
Lovely, Es, and A.Spencer: Thanks for all the 'get well'-related words in your reviews! My voice is still all wonky and my nose won't stop running, but at least I don't have a fever. Ha, take that, summer colds! And Es, thanks for the ice cream!
snowwolf: *looks around* Uh, I don't know, do I watch 'Kim Possible'? Actually, I've only seen it once or twice. Why do you ask?
Rosethorn: WHAT did I tell you guys about killing Laney before the story was over? *grabs the implements of death out of your hands* I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait. Hmm, this won't do all all. *haphazardly puts Laney back together with duct tape and paste* There, all better!
Arreiyenne: My, such diligent reviewing! I checked my email and saw fourteen new reviews! Thank you very much for your for your interest - and the cookies! - and I must say, I had fun reading all your comments.
Jezrael the Jealous: Hey, same goes for you, too! I know you haven't made any murderous advances on Laney yet, but let's try to keep it that way. Yes, that's it, destroy her in plushie effigy.
Silent Beatnik: Awww, a cockatiel? Cute! My sister has one, and it enjoys shiny things. *growls, remembering the blood blister she got when he tried biting off her ring*
Lady Arianna: *gasps* Profanity! Well, I never! *covers your mouth* Who's that Spartan with a dirty mouth? It's you! It's you! (Sorry, dumb reference to your name and a Saturday Night Live skit)
Settiai: CHOCOLATE!?! ...I mean, why thank you. This is much appreciated. *devours it instantly*
GoblinQueenie: PENDERGAST?!? *looks around* How do you know about Pendergast? Ahah, well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I must admit that I did use a teensy bit of Pendergast's character when creating Rhodes, but just the Southern accent. It's not like Rhodes is blond, or from New Orleans, or anything... Haha?
Ahem. I guess that's it. On another note, I didn't hear a lot of feedback on whether or not the next story should be from Rhodes' point of view. So heeeeere's what we're going to do. When you're done reading the chapter and you're writing your review, just tell me whether or not you think Rhodes narrating the next story is a good idea. All righty, we have that straightened out? Then on to chapter four!
Disclaimer: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the official author, owner, and proprietor of 'The Dying Detective'. (even though he's no longer with us) I'm just using the plot in my little exploit.
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Down the Rabbit Hole
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction
by Wakizashi
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Four: The Mock-Turtle's Song
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Christmas day that year was probably the most nerve-wracking holiday of my entire life. And I can still remember one Thanksgiving during which my grandfather, when he was alive, stepped on our cat, knocked over the Christmas tree, and fell asleep in one of the horse stalls.
It wasn't that it was a pain taking care of Rhodes; I was really very happy to do it. But he was getting steadily worse, and it was worrying my brains out. He didn't drink nearly as much liquids as he should have, he barely ate at all, and what was even more worrisome, he was complaining more and more that he was cold. And that didn't make a lick of sense, considering how warm his head felt.
It was nearly eighty degrees in his condo when Rhodes asked me to turn up the furnace again. I had already changed into a pair of shorts to combat the sweltering heat, and despite my concern for my partner, I was getting the distinct impression that he was only asking me to warm the house to see how many clothes I would shed. But of course that was ridiculous.
I was in the process of cranking up the thermostat on the second floor yet again when the phone rang. Without even thinking, I hurried to the nearest phone, which was in Rhodes' room, and picked it up. "Hello?"
A sullen, snotty voice on the other end spoke. "May I speak with Ethan?"
*Crap,* I thought, cursing my own forgetfulness. It hadn't even occurred to me that Laney would be calling again to see how Rhodes was doing. Then I remembered she had mentioned she would do just that. Keeping my voice cheerfully neutral, I asked, "Can I ask who's calling?"
"This is Laney. You know it is Laney."
"Mm-hmm," I answered blandly. "And what is this in reference to?" Rhodes, who was reading the newspaper in bed, looked up at me curiously.
Laney growled irritably. "Stop playing games, Nadia. Just let me speak with him."
I sighed. "Yeah, all right, keep your beret on," I said sourly, covering the mouthpiece with my hand. "It's your girlfriend, checking up on you," I told Rhodes as I held the phone out to him. I put extra emphasis on the word "girlfriend".
With a raised eyebrow, he took the phone from me and held it to his ear. "Hello, Laney," he said, folding the newspaper and lowering it into his lap. The good humor in his voice sounded strained. "Yes, I'm doing all right. Thank you for asking." What a liar. If anything, his condition was severely declining. "Ah, no, I don't think that will be necessary. I have Bridges here to take care of me..." There was a pause, and his eyebrows drew together. "Well, I don't think you have the right to judge her... Now Laney, that's just inexcusable. No. I will not allow you to speak of her that way."
The subject of their conversation was all too evident, and I couldn't help but smile. Rhodes was defending me.
"I am hanging up, Laney. I will see you when you decide to be civil." He pushed the end button with an angry jab of his finger and dropped the phone on the bed beside him, heaving an irritated sigh.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then I said casually, "I get the feeling she doesn't like me."
Rhodes pulled the cool washcloth off his forehead and set it aside, shaking his head. "I must apologize for her, Bridges. She still insists I should see a doctor, and it's obvious she's upset that I'm still refusing." He sighed again and raised the newspaper to his face. "She can be a little difficult at times."
"A little," I repeated with a dry chuckle. He joined in my laughter, and I pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. "Rhodes," I said quietly, not sure if I had any business asking this. But I had to know. "Why are you dating Laney?"
His eyes met mine above the newspaper, and I knew it had been a bad idea. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me," I said quickly. "It's not my place, I'm sorry I asked--"
"No no, don't be sorry," he interrupted, setting the paper down. "There's no need to be. But why do you ask?"
Oh goodness, so many reasons I could think of, Rhodes. Because you normally despise women like Laney. Because you're too intelligent to fall for someone like her. Because you've overlooked the one woman who would do anything for you. But of course I could give him none of these reasons, so I just shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know, I just... She doesn't seem like she's your type, that's all."
To my surprise, I felt his hand gently tilt my chin up. My eyes grudgingly met his, and I was stunned to see him gazing at me with a warm intensity I had never seen before. I felt my cheeks flush, and my heart started thudding in my chest. Unless I was losing my mind, and I couldn't discount the possibility, that look in his eyes was unmistakable.
"My dear Bridges," he whispered, tracing my jawline and making the pounding of my heart almost unbearable. "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us. Soon you'll understand."
He let his hand fall away from my face, and despite my racing pulse I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion at his words. Why was he being so cryptic? My mouth struggling to form words, I stammered, "W-what do you mean?"
But Rhodes had already raised the newspaper to his face, as if nothing had happened. He turned a page carelessly, and his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Hmm, interesting," he murmured. "Researchers are genetically altering lab mice for autism studies."
"What?" I felt like screaming my frustration. "Rhodes! What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
But nothing more was to be gained from this maddening conversation.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I didn't talk to Rhodes any more than necessary until that night. I knew I wouldn't get any information out of him, and to be honest, I was a little angry with him. There was something he was hiding from me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. So I simply stopped prying. If he didn't trust me enough to let me into his confidence, then that was his problem.
Instead I spent the rest of the day downstairs, catching up on my reading. Occasionally I brought Rhodes tea, or re-soaked his washcloth, but there was little else I could do for him. He wouldn't eat anything, but he refused to see a doctor. I could already tell he had lost weight.
At eight o'clock that evening I resolved to do something about it, whether he liked it or not. I went into the kitchen and, despite the oppressive heat in the house, turned on the stove and warmed up some tomato soup. If nothing else, Rhodes could at least get some liquid down. Pouring the hot soup into a thermos, I took it upstairs and knocked on his door.
"Hey Rhodes, hope you're decent," I said, pushing the door open with my free hand. "It's dinner time, and God knows it's been a while since you ate something. I brought you some-- Oh my God, Rhodes, what's the matter?"
My partner was sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over as if in pain. His normally pale face was flushed and damp with perspiration, and his arms were folded in front of his chest, his hands balled into fists. Nearly forgetting about the soup, I quickly set it down on the table before I dropped it.
I knelt next to Rhodes, my hand on his knee. "Rhodes, are you okay? This isn't funny, tell me what's wrong!"
"I... I'm not sure," he replied, his voice tight. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I ache... My back, shoulders, arms... legs. Muscle spasms, or cramps, or something. I don't know." He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. "God."
A sick feeling washed over me. *Good Lord, what next?* I thought desperately. "Don't worry, I'm trained for just this sort of thing," I assured him. Climbing onto the bed, I sat behind him and began rubbing his gaunt shoulders. His muscles were like sacks of rocks, and they refused to relax under my hands. His shirt was too thick, and it was interfering as well. "This isn't working. Take off your shirt," I ordered crossly.
Rhodes' head whipped around at that, regarding me with what could only be embarrassment. "Bridges," he said uncomfortably. "You don't have to--"
"Who's the licensed massage therapist around here?" I interrupted impatiently. "Now unless you want to remain in agony, do as I say and take off your shirt."
My less than courtly bedside manner was enough to get him moving. Pulling the shirt over his head with nervous, twitchy fingers, he shook it out and tossed it on the floor. As his thin but powerful arms flexed, I could see his taut muscles moving beneath his pale skin.
"Now lie down on your stomach."
With a sigh, Rhodes did as he was told, lifting his bare feet off the floor and stretching out on the bed. The light from his floor lamp was dim, but it was more than sufficient enough for me to take in my partner's glorious physique. Since they were given no other choice, my eyes couldn't help but roam over his lithe shoulders, his slender waist, the graceful curve of his spine.
Please believe my when I say my attraction to him had nothing to do with looks.
Okay, so I'm totally lying. In fact, as he settled himself into a comfortable position, I bit my lip in my hesitation. This was precisely why I had never given Rhodes a massage before. Just the thought of touching his naked back made me fearful of where exactly my hands would decide to wander. But right now he was in pain, and my apprehension was just going to have to take a back seat.
Taking a deep breath, I took off my rings and set them aside. After I rubbed my hands together and realized I was just stalling, I reached out slowly and laid my hands on Rhodes' back. His lean muscles flinched slightly at my touch and sent a shiver through me.
Forcing myself to remain under control, I shook my head and began loosening his shoulder muscles with the heels of my palms, being careful not to knead the tissue too hard. As I worked, I felt some of my nervousness leave me. The muscles, although they were tight and strained, began to relax as well. I moved my hands to his shoulders and upper arms, wishing all of my male clients had his body.
"You know," I said, my voice sounding unexpectedly loud in the silence, "your back and shoulders wouldn't be so stiff if you didn't slouch all the time."
Rhodes' body shook with a silent chuckle. "Must you reprimand me at a time like this?" he said, his tone light and easy. "Although I daresay you're right. But I'm sure that's not the only cause."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I know. Remember the Foo Fighters concert, when you lost your shoes? I'm surprised you could even stand the next morning."
He made a noise of mild irritation, and I decided to drop the subject. The tragic loss of his shoes was still a touchy subject. Instead, I continued kneading his shoulders, content to let the silence replace our awkward conversation. Several minutes passed, and when his muscles finally began to loosen, I massaged my way slowly down his long, wiry frame. At last I reached his lower back, just below the waist, and started to work at breaking up the knots in his muscles.
His reaction made me jerk my hands away in surprise. A soft moan of enjoyment, almost like a purr, came from deep within Rhodes' chest, followed my a long sigh. "Mmmm," he mumbled again. "That's good."
Biting back a nervous laugh, I blotted my damp palms on my shorts. *It would be really good if he didn't do that again,* I thought, taking another deep breath. It felt like there was a giant rock in my stomach. Forcing my hands to return to their position on his lower back, I resumed my ministrations.
Rhodes immediately moaned again, a little louder this time. I winced and fought the urge to bolt for the door. "I must say, Bridges," he murmured, his voice low and thick. "You certainly have quite the talent."
All right, that's enough; sorry, but our time is up. "Okay, you know what?" I said loudly, giving his back a jaunty pat with my hand. "I think you're done. Your muscles aren't so tense anymore, and you're clearly feeling better."
With a regretful sigh, Rhodes pushed himself up, giving me a full view of his sinewy torso. It was all I could do to keep my eyes fixed on his face instead of directing their attention downward. He gave a great, catlike stretch, his neck popping loudly. "Thank you, Bridges, for that most relaxing treatment," he said with a languid smile. "I really do feel much better."
"Happy I could help," I replied, returning Rhodes' smile despite my supreme discomfort. My hands still had the residual memory of being on his warm skin. "I'm glad all my studies have not been for nothing." As I crawled off the bed and stood up, I was incredibly conscious of my friend's proximity. "Well, I'm going to put your soup in the fridge for tomorrow, since it's pretty obvious you're not going to eat it. I'll be right back."
And so I left him, aware that his brilliant eyes were following me out the door. I walked down the hall and descended the stairs calmly, but as soon as I reached the kitchen and put away the thermos, I closed the refrigerator door and slumped heavily against it.
One thing was for certain: if Rhodes knew how much that massage had affected me, he would never have the courage to look at me again. I couldn't get the image of his lean, slender body out of my head, and every time I closed my eyes to block it out, it only returned a thousand times clearer. And his contented moans... sweet fancy Moses. I had never wanted him more.
There was one small - well, actually, *large* - problem, though, and that was the fact that Rhodes already had a girlfriend. Feelings or no, there was absolutely no way I was going to steal him from another woman, no matter how much I disliked her. Rhodes was just going to have to figure out by himself that he and Laney went together like peas and ice cream. And when he did, I would be there to set him on the right path.
But that got me thinking. What if Rhodes *already* knew Laney was wrong for him? That would explain his enigmatic remark to me. What had he said, exactly? "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us."
I frowned. *Sorry, Rhodes,* I thought. *But you've given me no other choice.*
Heaving an exasperated sigh, I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs yet again. As annoyed and confused as I was, I had taken it upon myself to be with Rhodes through his mysterious illness, so that was what I would continue to do. I padded quietly down the hall, shaking my head in amazement at the thermostat, and pushed his door open.
One emotion quickly shoved aside my other feelings: gut-wrenching fear. My partner was sitting on the hard wooden floor, his entire body wracked with violent shivers, trying unsuccessfully to pull his shirt over his head. A panicked gasp escaped me, and I knelt beside him and helped him into his shirt. "Oh, God, Rhodes, what's wrong? What is it now?" I asked, my voice bordering on hysteria.
"F-freezing," he stuttered, his teeth chattering quite audibly. He leaned into me for warmth, and I instinctively drew my arm around him.
"How can you be cold?" I said desperately, my head spinning. "It's at least eighty degrees in here! Come on, let's get you under the covers." With his assistance, I pulled him shakily to his feet. As I drew back the heavy bedclothes, he collapsed on top of the big mattress, drawing deep, shuddery breaths. "Hang in there, I'm going to get some more blank-- whoa!!"
Reaching out with one hand, Rhodes unexpectedly snagged me around the waist and pulled me onto the bed beside him, holding me tightly against him in a last, pathetic effort to get warm. My face flamed with embarrassment as he pulled the covers over both of us with slow, stupid fingers. "Rhodes," I protested awkwardy, my protestation all too evident as I uttered the single word.
"I hope you'll forgive me for this indiscretion, Bridges," he muttered, his words slurring together as he tugged me closer still. "I'm just so cold; I can't think of any other way to fight it off."
My heart felt a stab for him, and my discomfort slowly melted away. *The poor thing,* I thought, my eyes stinging with tears. How long was he going to keep suffering like this? "It's okay," I told him softly, shifting onto my back to allow him to rest his head on my shoulder. "Whatever helps you feel better."
I could feel his shivers slightly abate as he draped his arm over my stomach. He let out a little sigh, his breath on my neck causing me to shiver myself. "I don't deserve you, Bridges," he murmured.
"Sure you do," I said, stroking his hair.
Rhodes shook his head minutely. "No, I don't." He was silent for a while, but then suddenly he lifted his head until he was staring down into my face. His arm was still wrapped tightly, almost needily, around me. "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asked.
My chest tightened. "N-no," I said slowly, swallowing hard.
"Hmm." Still gazing down at me, his face drew closer. That warm, sincere expression he had worn earlier had returned. "I should have," he whispered.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. *Oh, God, this is it,* I thought frantically. Laney or no Laney, there was no mistaking it: Rhodes was going to kiss me. And, strangely enough, I had no qualms about it. Out of nowhere, his words from my dream came back to me, repeating over and over in my head.
"It's only a matter of time, Bridges..."
I lay perfectly still, returning his gaze, as he dipped his head down. His wonderful green eyes slid slowly shut, his nose brushed against mine...
...and then his head fell heavily on my shoulder, his face buried in my throat. Still holding me in his bridegroom embrace, his breathing came out evenly, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out just what the hell had happened: Rhodes had fallen asleep. We were *millimeters* away from kissing, and he had fallen asleep.
Biting back a curse, I reached up and turned off the floor lamp that stood behind the headboard. The shadows enveloped the room, and the only sound that reached my ears was the easy breathing of my sleeping friend. Sighing inconsolably, I rested my hand on Rhodes' back and traced a slow, lazy circle.
"Pleasant dreams, my love," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: *whips out her umbrella in self-defense and prepares to be pummeled with rotten fruit* Yes, I know, crappy ending for everyone who has been waiting ages for them to kiss. But don't worry, they will soon enough! And if you're still mad... just read the dream sequence over and over. Ahem! Well, hope you liked it despite its shortness and the cruel, cruel ending. I'm aware that I suck. Review please, and be gentle with me! Even though I don't deserve it! Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com