A/N: So, once again, it's been way too long – sorry! And I just re-read Chapter 5 to try and get my Latter Days head on, and I was so annoyed with myself for making some really stupid errors (sentences being cut off too early, continuation issues etc). I don't often have a lot of time to write because I do it in quiet moments at work, so it might land me in hot water if the boss realised what I was doing! I'll try harder this chapter, I promise.

Thanks to those of you still reading this; I know I'm a bit useless at updating – life just gets in my way all the time. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this.

Obviously I don't own the rights to the film or characters; what you see here is just fond imagining.

"Christian?" Aaron called, and Christian leant out of the bathroom, rivulets of water running down his neck and turning the faded red of his t-shirt dark.

"What?" Aaron appeared, looking harried, from the bedroom.

"Have you got a tie?"

"A tie?"

"Yeah, like a tie you wear with a shirt."

Aaron huffed in annoyance at Christian's vague expression.

"You don't have one?" Christian frowned.

"I've got the black tie I wear for work, but if you wear it with a white shirt you'll look a bit, you know…waiter or whatever."

Aaron's face grew even more panicked and Christian held out his hands soothingly.

"Okay, don't lose your shit, let me go have a look."

Christian surveyed his closet in distaste. Some of this stuff had to go. Hung around the hanger of his funeral suit was the pink whistle he'd bought two years ago at Pride, and there were some truly heinous patterned shirts that he couldn't ever remember wearing.

"I gotta have a clear out," he muttered to himself, and frowned.

"Well? Have you found one?" Christian tutted, Aaron's panic almost tangible.

"Just wait a minute!" he says, and Aaron obliges by falling silent, shuffling about the bedroom in search of a pair of socks.

Finally, underneath a Hawaiian shirt that made Christian feel nauseous, he found a tie; blue, plain, non-descript. He stood, holding the offending object out in front of him.

"Is this," he said, wrinkling his nose slightly, "the kinda thing you wanted?"

Aaron's face relaxed, and he reached forward to pluck the material from Christian's hand.

"You don't have to hold it like it's got the plague. It's a respectable piece of work wear. Unlike some of that junk." Aaron said, nodding at the pile of brightly coloured fabric scattered across the floor.

"Hey! My taste is impeccable!" Christian protested, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. It lasted for all of three seconds before they both snorted with laughter.

Aaron shook his head and turned to face the mirror, twitching up the collar of the shirt as he looped the tie about his neck. Christian stood, just watching him smooth fabric, tie a knot, tuck shirt tails in.

"You know," he said, sidling up behind Aaron, "you look pretty hot in that."

Aaron rolled his eyes, lips unmistakeably upturned.

"Right. Okay."

"I'm serious!" Christian insisted, and looped his hands around Aaron's waist, resting his chin on one broad shoulder. Aaron hummed and leant back against him.

"I'm serious too. Ergh, it's like the first day of school; I feel a little nauseous. I can't puke on my first day, can I?" He tried to pull away, smiling when arms around his waist tightened, "Hey, you're gonna make me late if you don't watch out."

Christian pressed his face into the clean-smelling fabric.

"It's gonna be quiet with you not here."

"I'm not leaving for good; it's just a job. And hey, it's your turn to be the little house wife and make dinner for when I get back."

Christian sighed.

"You know that means a tin of tuna and, like, some breadsticks, right?"

Aaron laughed as he knotted his tie.

"I can't wait. It sounds very…Italian." Christian grumbled and squeezed a little tighter.

"Do you have to go?"

Satisfied that his hair was tidy, his shirt and tie smart and his trousers unrumpled, Aaron gently detangled himself from Christian and turned about.

"Hey, listen to me. This is a really great opportunity; I get to do some good and bring in some money to help you with the rent. You understand, right?"

Christian nodded; he really did understand, of course he did. It was just that the unreasonable, sorta jealous side of him was having a bit of a paranoia fit at the idea of Aaron working with some potentially hot, sweet-as-pie-with-good-Christian-values guy, who he had an irrational hatred for already.

As if he could read his mind, Aaron shook his head, smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to Christian's cheek.

"I gotta go. I'll call you at lunch, okay?"

Christian trailed behind him to the door, smiling as best he could and waving as Aaron walked down the steps.

"Good luck!" he called, cutting his eyes at the muscular guy from next door who wolf-whistled a blushing Aaron.

"Eyes to yourself, asshole." He muttered, before shutting the door behind him.

The office seemed busier than he remembered from his interview, and Aaron made his way over to the small front reception desk where a woman with short, pixie-cut hair sat typing away busily.

"Um, hi." He said, and she looked up at him with a dazzling smile.

"Hi! Aaron Davies, right? Great to have you here, Yvonne should be out of her eight o'clock in just a second. Here, I'll show you to your desk; you'll be sitting next to Serena and Adam." Slightly bemused, Aaron nodded and smiled at the two people that waved their hands in greeting at him.

"Here, you just make yourself at home and I'll send someone over to see you as soon as, okay?"

As she walked away Adam leant over and nudged him conspiratorially.
"She's always like that, don't worry."

"Sweetest person ever, but just doesn't pipe down." Said Serena, the older woman with hair piled up in a messy bun. Aaron grinned at them both and looked at the desk in front of him. A computer (his typing was never up to all that much), a desk tidy and a miniature desk calendar with what looked like inspirational quotes. He flicked it open to January and was rewarded by the sight of a small kitten trying to reach a goldfish bowl, with text reassuring him that 'hard work always pays off'. Grimacing a little he reached over and flipped the calendar so it lay, face down.

I don't need a kitten to help with my nausea; it's coming along nicely all by itself.

Christian leant against the front door as he fumbled for his keys, sweat pouring down his face after his run. Stretching out a hamstring as he tried to get the key in the lock, he stumbled a little when the door swung open and groaned as he banged his ankle against the step.

"Goddamnit," he muttered and threw the keys in the bowl Aaron had picked up from the thrift store to ensure he didn't have to listen to Christian's swearing each morning when he couldn't find his set.

Retrieving a small towel from the bathroom and sighing deeply, he wandered into the kitchen, putting water and coffee beans into the machine. As the percolator began to hiss and boil, he wandered over to the landline and pressed the message play button before walking over to the coffee table to tidy up some of the books and magazines that were scattered across the surface.

"Hello," Christian stopped, frowning at the somehow familiar, hesitant voice. "This is a message for Aaron Davies. I…I just wanted to know that you're safe and…happy. I…Goodbye."

With a sound of scuffling and approaching footsteps the message ended abruptly, and Christian stared at the machine. It was only when his throat closed convulsively and his stomach gave a strange lurch that he realised his hands were shaking a little. He sat down heavily on the couch, eyes still on the winking red light that told him the strange, disjointed message was still there, waiting for him.

What the hell do I do now?

Lila looked at her watch, realised it was only ten thirty am and clicked her tongue impatiently. Her rule of thumb for drinking had always been past midday and it's anybody's game. Rubbing her temples in an attempt to rid herself of the migraine the nightmare last night had caused she took a deep calming breath.

"You alright?" Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes at her as he dried the glasses fresh out of the washer.
"Fine, just a little tired." She said, her tone clearly indicating an end to the conversation. Andrew raised an eyebrow sceptically
"Right, and I'm Patti LuPone." With a long-suffering tsssk, Lila folded her arms and turned to face him.

"Andrew, you are not paid to pass judgement on my physical or mental state. You are here to serve the clientele of my restaurant. Is that clear?"

Biting back a retort, Andrew held up his hands in defence and made off back to the kitchen. Pursing her lips, Lila reached over the bar and picked up one of the glasses left on the side, still warm from the washer. She let her gaze linger on the import bottle of Bombay Sapphire, its blue glass glowing comfortingly under the spotlight above the bar, weighed up the pros and cons of starting to drink now, and instead filled the glass with soda water from the pump.

Aaron moved about the kitchen, putting bowls and plates away whilst Christian fidgeted with a pen as he thought.

"So, what're you gonna do tonight?" Christian said, cringing at the overly light tone of his voice.
"Ah, I dunno. They're showing the '54 version of 'War of the Worlds' at 9.00pm, so might try and catch some of that. You better change or you'll be late."

Christian hmm'd in agreement. Aaron stopped what he was doing and put the towel down, wiping the last bits of damp from his hands.

"Are you alright?"
"What? Yeah, sure. I'm great; why do you ask?"

Aaron's stomach gave a nasty lurch as he looked at Christian.

"What's going on, Christian?"
"Nothing! Don't be so suspicious."
"Then don't lie to me."

Christian met Aaron's gaze, shoulders slumping as he broke eye contact.

"I just…something happened today, and it kinda freaked me out."

The look of concern on Aaron's face and the way he came to stand right in front of him,

hand reaching for Christian's, made Christian feel even more of an asshole than he usually did.

"What happened? You're not sick or anything, right?"
"Your mom called."

Silence.

"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah, I did. Did…did you want a juice?"
"What? No, I don't want a juice. We need to talk about this."
"I don't see why."
"You don't…alright. Okay, so you're like, in denial about what this could mean. I see it all the time on Jerry Springer."
"I am not in denial. Did she say if everyone was okay? Nobody's died, right?"
"I don't think so. She said…"
"See? Can't be that big a deal."

Aaron opened the fridge, pulling the juice out and snagging a glass from the rack.

"Are you actually going to do this?"
"Do what?"
"God, Aaron, this is your mom." Christian pleaded.
"Yeah, because she's really been acting like it lately, huh?"

Elbowing the fridge shut Aaron took his glass and walked straight past Christian into the living room. Staring after him in disbelief Christian followed.

"Is that it?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"You don't feel happy?"
"Don't feel a whole lot, actually."

Pressing the power button on, Aaron sat and stared at the television screen, resolutely not looking at Christian who stood, brow creased in confusion.

"Aaron, come on. I know it's a shock, but you have to talk to her. At least return her call."
"I'm good."

At a loss, Christian turned on his heel and walked through to the bedroom, reaching automatically for the shirt and pants hung over the back of the chair.

When he had finished dressing he walked back out; there was Aaron, sitting in the same position, eyes slightly unfocussed as the television played a program on Monster Trucks.

"I gotta go. I'll…I'll see you later, okay?"

Not a word. Christian felt the anxiety that had been rolling about in his stomach since this morning rise and swell into something bigger, uglier.

"Fuck, are you even going to say anything?"

The television picture disappeared with a pop and Aaron stood up, turning to face him with a dark expression on his face.

"What? What do you want me to say, Christian? That I'm mad at the fact that my other sent me to that place? Or is it that you think I miss her so much that I'm gonna try and crawl back there? No. Just forget it, you wouldn't understand."

Christian laughed humourlessly;

"I wouldn't understand? You know what, yeah, you're right I don't understand – you've not done anything to help me get my head around what you're feeling. You don't mention your family, and you've not talked at all about what happened when you were gone since the night you got back, and even then you didn't say anything much. You want me to understand? Then fucking tell me."

The silence that fell was thick, all-consuming, and Christian's throat closed convulsively as he clenched his hands tightly to stop them from shaking.

When Aaron shook his head mutely Christian reached for his jacket and turned on his heel, striding through the door and slamming it shut.