Free from the vice hold of Lutalo and his friend, Noah rapidly scrambled up, his feet skidding a few times on the tiny round stones beneath them. He stumbled as he pushed through the gap in the bushes.

Oblivious to how the nasty thorns had cut harshly into his bare skin, he ran up the potholed dirt road that passed the small group of huts on its way north and out of the village.

Reaching the spot where the car had been, his blue eyes glued to the horizon where the vehicle had only just disappeared from sight.

Noah was aware of the loud squeaks escaping his lips with each desperate gasp, but it was the only sound he seemed capable of. Fatigue, hunger, thirst and sweat all forgotten; heart struggling.

His body shivered in shock and bewilderment until eventually he uttered, "This… isn't… happening."

He looked around crazily; first at the busted in doorway of Luke's hut and then at the small crowd of curious villagers slowly gathering to see what all the noise was about.

"This… isn't… happening."

His eyes fell on Kigongo as he appeared from within the small group of people.

"Will they hurt him?" he pleaded.

But Kigongo was incapable of replying. He merely returned Noah's stare with a look of abject sorrow and sympathy.

Feeling he would not get reassurance from that camp, Noah whipped around to find Lutalo; his friend and the small boy sadly watching him.

"Will they hurt him?" he asked again, louder this time.

Lutalo, ever the leader; honest and stronger than the others; replied in the simplest of ways, "Yes. This time he will die I think."

His eyes were as sincere as Noah had ever seen on a man.

Thoughts jumbled; impossible to think; impossible to react. Suddenly he had the strongest urge to get out of there; out from under the glare of strangers' eyes.

Noah turned and entered the hut, closing the broken door as best he could to shield himself; hide even.

Standing in the centre of the room, surveying the mat where just hours before he had held Luke in his arms, Noah's befuddled brain began to wonder if he'd dreamt it.

"They're going to kill him."

The thought come so sudden to him, even as he'd struggled within those few moments to deny them. He knew it was true. Luke had escaped; made them look bad. They would seek revenge in the worst way.

But as quickly as these notions hit his consciousness he hammered them back down. He hammered all the negative thoughts back down, just as he had done from the first moment back in L.A. when he realised Luke might be in trouble.

He denied those feelings. He did the one thing Holden was working so hard to help him stop doing. But in this case he needed to or he would fall apart.

He managed it too. He began to get his breath back; he began to steady his racing heart; he began to believe that what he knew to be true was not so.

But this idea quickly crumbled again when Luke himself revealed a message that could not be denied.

Glinting on the table under the light of the paraffin lamp, where Luke knew Noah would find it, was Luke's wedding ring.

As Noah took a step toward it his knees buckled from under him. He was left kneeling before the table like a pilgrim before some precious shrine. He released an anguished cry which he was sure they heard from outside. But blessedly nobody disturbed him.

"No… please…" His voice was a mere whisper.

Don't give up.

He shakily reached out for the small object but could not make himself take it; his hand hovering there.

If he took it was he accepting Luke's defeat?

Because it was clear this wasn't left as a message of hope; this was a goodbye.

"Please…"

His index finger circled the cold circumference of the ring; round and around as he rocked back and forth on his knees.

Like some unending nightmare, Luke was stripped from him again. And all those fears he contained within himself; the fears he'd carried daily; that were a part of his love for Luke; were storming and raging through him.

His hand clawed over the ring; entrapping it in his palm and bringing the precious object up closer to his lips; pressing as he drew in air through his teeth.

Sobs began to wrack his body and he willed them away. He didn't have a whole lot of time, he knew, but he couldn't seem to get himself together.

His eyes moved to the side, catching something else left by Luke. Noah snatched the small saucer closer and stared down at it.

"NO!" he defiantly announced.

Opening up his hand he once again revealed the platinum band; still trying to reorder his mind and come up with a solution.

He didn't have one, but there was one thing he was totally committed to.

"It's not over!"

He gently slipped Luke's ring onto his finger until it came to rest against his own.

Kissing both the rings and speaking with his lips upon them, he whispered, "I'm not giving up. You hear me, Luke. I'm coming!"

He stood and marched back outside.

Left sitting on the table was the bar of soap on which, using the end of a match stick, Luke had hastily scrapped two words, "I'm sorry."

...

Lutalo was proud of this Luke. He didn't know the man. They had only just met. Yet he could say for certain that he was proud of him.

The moment the police left the hotel room with Luke; there was no question that they would follow. They sprinted out the back of the hotel and around to the front, just in time to watch them load Luke into a cruiser and set off.

Thinking quickly, Lutalo jacked the nearest car, a white Ford Fiesta, and they sped off after them; watching as they park and dragged Luke inside the nearest police station.

He and Zesiro sat outside in the car for sometime. After three hours Lutalo went inside to see if he could hear anything, but there was no sign of any activity within the station.

They decided to return to base and find Magomu and Najja; regroup and discuss what they would do. Of all the reporters who had campaigned for the cause, Zesiro was the most well known by the police; easily recognisable due to his gargantuan size.

As such, Lutalo was adamant that Zesiro lay low and he took Magomu and Najja with him to the police station.

They sat parked outside for what seemed like a lifetime, eating and sleeping there. Keeping watch. Eventually, four officers reappeared with an exhausted looking Luke in tow. They shoved him back into a parked police cruiser and set off through the city streets heading north.

Lutalo and his two friends were hot on their tail and Najja telephoned Zesiro to fill him in as soon as they realised they would be driving out of Kampala.

In less than one week this Luke had proved himself a valuable ally in their fight. It was a war Lutalo and his reporter friends had toiled for over seven years, ever since the first whisper of anti-homosexual legislation began to pass from one government official's ear to the next. Quiet at first; like a wisp of wind passing by. But gradually growing in strength and speed; waiting for a change in direction to transform into a gale.

And that typhoon came in the form of a man called Simon Laarman.

"A man?" Lutalo angrily shook his head as he thought to himself, his eyes fixed on the bumpy road ahead; hands squeezing irately around the steering wheel. "No. This is no man. A person who could convince a country's leaders to murder and torture its people is not a man!"

They had been following the police cruiser for more than a day. They had followed it non-stop until it came across the washed away bridge and had to change course.

"Is this good or bad?" Najja asked him in their native tongue.

"Good my friend." Lutalo replied, smiling out the corner of his mouth. "This means they must stop for the night."

Najja nodded following Lutalo's train of thought.

Sure enough their chance came in the early dawn. Being camped so far out in the empty veld as they were, not a building in sight, the officers felt confident to let their guard down.

One officer accompanied Luke behind the camouflage of some bushes; unlocking the cuffs around Luke's wrists so that he could relieve himself. The officer turned his back to Luke and zipped down his own trousers to begin urinating under the shade of the bush.

After all, there was nowhere for Luke to run too and he would not survive the desert like heat this far out from civilisation.

What the officer hadn't calculated on was Lutalo's small group, lying in wait just for this opportunity.

Pressing his finger to his lips and ignoring the surprised eyebrow lift from Luke; Lutalo crept up behind the officer and smacked him hard against the side of his head with a large rock he'd picked up from the ground.

With the officer down, Luke and Lutalo sprinted as fast as their legs would take them over the rough terrain; eventually over a small rise where the stolen white car came into view.

Luke smiled and quickly greeted Magomu and Najja who were obviously both surprised and relieved to see Luke alive and well.

They sped off back down the hill away from where the officers had camped for the night.

Instead of carrying on south and back in the direction of Kampala, Lutalo swiftly altered their path north once more and toward a small town he knew well. It was the place of his birth.

...

As he walked, Lutalo bit into an orange; sucking out the sweet juices before spitting the ruffage onto the road side.

He arrived just in time to witness the recently awoken Luke exit the door of the hut, squinting at the bright light of the setting sun and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You are awake." Lutalo said as way of greeting.

Luke nodded, "Was I out for long? Man I was beat!"

"Long time; six hours maybe."

Luke regarded him seriously, "Thank you."

"It was nothing. You saved us at the hotel."

"Yes, but… you didn't have to come after me and I'm grateful you did."

Lutalo could only smile at the man.

Luke looked around at their surroundings, really examining the village; something he hadn't seemed interested in when they first arrived.

In fact, by the time they'd reached the village that morning, Lutalo was having some difficulty keeping the man awake. It was clear Luke had not slept much at all; afraid of what the police might do to him and worried for his husband.

Turning back to Lutalo Luke asked, "Is there a phone I can use? I really need to call Noah."

Lutalo shook his head, "There are no phones in this village. None for miles. No cell signal either."

The news seemed to hit Luke hard; his face falling and his eyes dulling even more.

"He must be going crazy." Luke said then, looking down at the ground and running his hands through his hair.

Lutalo wasn't sure whether the statement was directed at him or whether Luke was merely thinking allowed, but it was clear he was gripped with concern.

"I promised him I'd call every day." This time Luke was speaking to him. "And when we last spoke…" Luke's eyes squeezed shut at the memory and what it could mean, "Shit! When… when will we be near a phone?"

"You are now a wanted man, my friend, and we must be careful. We will hide here tonight and set out in the morning. Perhaps we will find a telephone on the way."

"TOMORROW?" Luke shook his head. "No! I have to contact him now… You don't understand. He… he has issues about me... I mean… Shit!"

Luke kicked at the ground in frustration.

"Shit! I didn't mean to do this to him! Fuck!"

"I am sorry."

Luke looked up apologetically, "It's not your fault. I didn't mean to imply…"

Lutalo lifted both his hands and shook his head, "It is understandable. Look… tomorrow I will pay a man to travel south with a message for Zesiro. At least we will know he can phone your husband if we don't find a way."

"Thank you. That's better than nothing I guess."

"Come. I will take you to get food."

Luke shook his head, sliding down the wall of the hut and bringing his knees up to his chest.

"No. Thanks Lutalo, but I really can't eat right now."

Lutalo saw now the depth of the man's sadness. It was intense. It creased Luke's brow and shaded his eyes. Lutalo felt for him.

"I would like to hear more about him." Lutalo tried.

Luke looked up, "Sorry?"

"This Noah. Will you tell me about him? I would like to hear about the person who has the heart of a man such as you."

Luke smiled, "I would say it's more like he has mine."

"If that is true, forgive me but, why are you here?"

Luke wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans, "That's a fair question… and… really? I don't have an answer that you can understand. Noah certainly doesn't."

Luke stood again and leaned back into the hut wall.

"Or, rather he does understand, but he can't accept it. And… I don't know… standing here now, in this situation? I'm starting to think he's right."

"Why did you come then?"

"I want to make a difference, Lutalo. I'm not the type of person who can sit back and live his amazing life while others like me suffer. And I'm also not the person who leaves a friend without at least trying to help. I came because I needed the truth about what happened to my friend… and I had my suspicions about that. I didn't come to end up as a fugitive. I didn't come to risk my life. Because even though Noah thinks differently, I do know what my life means to him. And I would never want to hurt him. I would definitely never want to leave him."

Lutalo nodded, feeling sympathy for this man.

"God!" The blonde looked up at the sky and shook his head, "What must he be thinking now? And what makes it worse is that… at the moment there's nothing I can do about it. I never meant to put him through hell. I was supposed to be back in L.A. by now. Just a reporter going on assignment. That's it!"

"Come." Lutalo tried again. "Like you say, there IS nothing you can do now. But you can keep up your strength and eat something. He would want that for you… yes?"

Luke sighed but pushed himself away from the wall and began dragging his feet behind Lutalo, hands in his pockets, as they made their way down to the village.

Reaching the bar Magomu was quick to thrust a tankard of beer at him but Luke vigorously shook his head.

"I don't drink alcohol. Please. I'll sit here but, please keep the drink away, okay?"

The men didn't question him, merely introduced Luke to some of the other people in the group and brought him a drink of ginger beer instead.

"Thank you." Luke smiled up at Najja and took the proffered tankard.

They sat around the fire, laughing, drinking, eating and talking about life in general. Where possible the reporters spoke in English for Luke's benefit. The men from the village only understood Swahili so there were many long conversations where translations had to be made.

Slowly, Lutalo watched Luke coming out of his depression a little, his eyes sparking with interest in what the men had to say. He seemed to drink the information in and store it away, perhaps to write about later.

In Luke, Lutalo found a lot of common ground.

For a while Luke asked Lutalo about his own life. He asked whether Lutalo's wife understood his need to be involved in this fight. Lutalo replied that his wife loved him for him and so understood his reasons. Besides, at first he was not aware of how much trouble his involvement would cause him.

"Has it always been this way?" Lutalo asked Luke, during a lull in conversation, "Between you and your Noah?"

Luke thought for a moment and then shook his head. "A lot has changed since we first met. I used to be the one with the problem. I could never accept when Noah wanted to do things without me. I wanted to be involved in everything that had to do with him. I smothered him a lot really. I was always afraid that I wasn't enough… that he would leave."

"So what happened?"

"We broke up. We lived a part for a year and when we finally got back together it seemed like things had swapped around? Suddenly it was Noah afraid that I would leave him. I wanted to prove to him that I could do this job… go on assignment and it wouldn't change anything. You know? I mean we can't live like this forever? At some point Noah has to trust that I will always go back to him. Just because we are apart for a few days doesn't mean I love him any less."

Lutalo nodded, "I think I understand what you are saying."

Luke smiled.

"Why don't you tell me more about him?" Lutalo asked, seeing how Luke's eyes lit up at the conversation. "I would like to know why you love this man so much."

...

"Keep low!" Lutalo whispered as the five of them hid in a break of trees over looking the prison walls.

"Are you sure he's here?" Noah asked.

Lutalo nodded. "This was where they were headed before. He's here, I am sure."

"Thank you for doing this." Noah said looking around at the gathered men, "All of you. I know you're taking a great risk."

"It is a risk that will pay off, my friend." Najja told him, "If we can get Luke and you back to America, it will help us greatly."

At first they had not wanted to come. They could see no viable way of rescuing Luke this time.

"There HAS to be a way!" Noah had pleaded. "He's still alive! And while he's alive I am NOT giving up! You hear me?"

The men had looked at him in defeat.

"If there was a way, what would it be?" Noah asked, trying a different tactic.

Lutalo did not want to hurt this man, "There is only one option and that one is impossible."

"What?" Noah asked. "What is it?"

"The only thing that ever works in Africa." Lutalo told him, "Money. A lot of money."

"Money?" Noah asked, as though that was the stupidest obstacle in the world.

"If we had money we could bribe some of the guards. Maybe buy Luke back before the officer's kill him."

Noah's mouth fell open but then he shouldn't have been so surprised. These men had nothing; had never had much in their lives. To them money was not an option.

"I have money." Noah announced. "I have a lot of money!"

He really did. Far more than it was perhaps safe to carry on his person. But when he found out they would be leaving Kampala he had withdrawn as much as the cash machine would allow him too. Sometimes the skills of preparation his father had instilled in him really did come in handy.

So now he, Lutalo, Kigongo, Magomu and Najja were creeping their way around the perimeter of the prison; which in reality was more of a compound. Instead of buildings, the encampment consisted of tiny corrugated shelters in which the prisoners were kept. These shelters were patrolled day an night by armed guards, with orders to shoot on sight anybody who attempted to enter the area.

They found their contact near the entrance to the encampment. He was a small older police guard and skittish as well, which was to be expected. But one look at the banknotes produced by Noah and he immediately began to lead them to the shack where he said Luke would be held.

They hadn't been walking for long when they heard the distinctive lashing tongue of a whip hitting flesh and a howl of agony that brought Noah up short; breaking him in two.

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