"We did?"
Jack nodded, his eyes welling. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault, D. It's all my fault that you're here. It should have been me."
Demarco was confused... Jack's sudden confession and vulnerability both jarring and unusual traits from his stoic lover.
"It's OK," Demarco said, patting his hand. "Whatever it is, Jack... I forgive you."
"I'm the worst bodyguard in the world." He was chuckling through tears. "I let you get shot—twice. That's what I told your friend, Alec—but not your mother. I couldn't tell her that."
His face reddened, twisting in anguish.
This is a breakdown, Demarco thought.This is what two weeks worth of pent-up guilt can do to even a strong man.
"I don't want to lose you, D. Ever. Keep your job, I don't care—as long as you're alive and in my life, that's all that matters."
Once again, Demarco saw the past youth within Jack's rugged face—his brave, statuesque, warrior caving like a child to self-induced shame and the grief of potential loss.
"Stand up," Demarco said, gesturing with his hands. "Come here. Hug me. Just be gentle, and watch all these tubes."
Jack didn't have to be told twice, he collapsed into Demarco's upper half as lightly as he could, crying into his shoulder. Demarco stroked his hair and patted his back, whispering, "It's OK. It's OK, Jack. I'm not going anywhere."
"There was so much blood," Jack said. "I heard the shot, but by the time I reached you, there was so much blood... then I had to wait on an ambulance... then I had to wait while you were in the emergency room... then I had to wait while you were in critical care... then three surgeries, D..."
"I get it, Jack. I was gone... for two long weeks—but I'm OK now. I promise."
Jack stood, wiping his face in his hands. He looked at Demarco. "I'm in love with you, D. I've felt it for a while. I know it's fast and I don't care—and I know for damn sure now, after allthis... no doubt whatsoever."
Demarco nodded, tearing a little himself. "I feel the same, Jack—have pretty much all along. I think I was just too stunned... or stubborn... or afraid to admit it. Near-death experiences have a way of narrowing perspective."
Jack heaved a big sigh, nodding.
"So, I love you too, Jack Keegan... even though you're a lesbian."
Jack laughed... and seeing his face change from distress to joy was the best medicine Demarco could have asked for. They embraced again, Demarco squeezing him harder than before, as much as his recuperating strength would allow, harnessing Jack's warm, healing energy—attempting to absorb it, and maybe hasten his recovery.
After a moment, they separated, but they were unable to part completely... so, they kept tether with their hands.
"There's still one thing you haven't told me, Jack."
He looked at Demarco, confused.
"Why am I here? Who shot me?"
There was a knock at the door. "Room service," said Trish, backing in with a tray. "Everyone is on break, so I decided to bring this myself."
She turned to find Demarco and Jack staring at her, anxious.
"Oh," she said, sarcastically. "Is this not a good time?"
19
After Trish made sure that Demarco was comfortable with his lunch tray—fully capable of spooning Jell-O and sipping chicken broth—she left, allowing them to resume their conversation.
"So why, Jack? Why would they shoot me again?"
"They didn't, D. Does the name Kicklighter mean anything to you?"
"Roy?"
