In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep...
-- Billy Joel, "River Of Dreams"

It was early. The sun was weak, not warm, and hiding somewhere down near the horizon. The sky was overcast, empty and white as a blank sheet of paper. The river was a dead flat silver color as it churned and twisted through the city, and one man walked alone, along its banks. He walked slowly, but with strange determination, as though unaware of the puddles and mud in his path. He was tired, but he kept his eyes wide open, trying to focus on the river, on its constant rushing sound.

It didn't help.

I should be over it by now, Blair Sandburg thought silently. But he wasn't. How long had it been since gentle hands had cradled his head, as he tumbled into dreamless oblivion? Since he'd awoken to sweet, crooning words, eyes burning with desire--? Blair shivered despite himself.

It had been years. It had all been over years ago. That time was gone beyond any resurrection. But he could not forget. Eyes stinging, Blair stared up at the empty sky. His legs were stiff. The cold morning air pierced his lungs sharply, and his mind was haunted by memory's wild ghost. It had only been one night, but it had been enough. More than enough. It had changed Blair Sandburg utterly. He hadn't wanted to face it before, but now he had to. He had to accept the truth.

Even now, Blair's old lover owned him-- heart and soul. Lover. Maybe it wasn't exactly the right word, but it was the only one Blair had ever found that fit. No one else had ever looked on him with such all-consuming passion, touched him with such intensity, such fascination. It had only been one night, but Blair had thought dawn would never come.

Love. It must have been, because love is forever, or so Blair had always heard. And though Blair's lover was gone, he still had the power to touch him, in dreams and in the dark.

Blair had tried to move on, he'd tried over and over to forget. In unlit rooms, warm beds, he'd seek oblivion between some willing beauty's thighs, and then make a fatal mistake: look up into her eyes. And there was never any difference Blair could see between her passion and the dark lust of the only true lover he'd ever known-- and suddenly her touch would be his, her need his, her eyes, no matter the color, his, shining with merciless, eternal hunger. The hunger was a constant, corrosive and crushing, like cold stagnant water just waiting to close over his head, to choke and consume and swallow him up forever.

It was there always, the very soul of David Lash, and Blair had found that he could not close his eyes to it. In that one night, years ago, he had been woken roughly from the dream, taken beyond ignorance, beyond illusion, beyond any naive beliefs he'd once had about devotion, about passion. His eyes had been opened to the hollowness of hearts. In truth, in essence-- Blair knew it, now-- love was a cruel insufficiency. Love was a cypher, a nothing, innate emptiness only.

Still shivering, Blair stopped in his tracks. He rubbed his arms, trying to work some warmth into his skin, and scanned the unfamiliar area carefully. He'd only been here once before, at night, and then... then, in the near distance, he saw it, his destination. He took a deep breath, and walked away from the river. Towards the duckpond.

It was so clear now-- how, all unconsciously, he'd tried to hide from the hunger. Blindly he'd sought women who didn't seem to have that hollow quality, whose hearts had no vacancy or only a little room, grudgingly given. He'd fled the virgin, pursued the whore, hunted the lioness more inclined to bat him around than hold him close. He'd once thought to find solace with the single mother, both sweet and safe. With her, Blair would always be second, never be the true focal point of her attention. He would never be the only one in her heart, never worth killing or dying for.

And that had been good. Or good enough, at least. It had been safe.

And then, last night...

Jim had kissed him.

And Jim had always been so strong, so staunchly self-reliant-- Blair cursed himself blankly as he reached the edge of the brackish pool. He'd been an idiot to think Jim would be any different, to think he might be safe. But somehow, in Jim's arms, his fears had faded. He'd accepted Jim's kiss, his touch... and oh, how Jim had touched him. Gently, as though Blair could still be hurt. Carefully, as though he hadn't been eviscerated long ago. He had taken Blair to his bed, and let Blair take him, there. Let Blair fill him, as though Blair were not empty inside himself.

Blair had closed his eyes. Kept them closed so tight it hurt. And it had been perfect.

And when he'd woken up in the dim pre-dawn, in Jim's bed, less than an hour ago... He'd been warm. Jim was holding him close, and his sleeping breaths had been warming Blair's neck. And all that was perfect too, and only the very slightest unease had made Blair lie still and silent under Jim's arm, waiting, he didn't know what for... And then Jim had moved, inhaling deeply, pulling him closer.

You're my life, Blair, he'd whispered, my life, I love you...

Blair had tried to breathe, but god, he'd almost felt the shackles closing around his wrists, heard the water rushing and rising, reaching for him... He'd choked. Half-falling out of bed, he'd scrabbled, shivering, for his clothes. There was no plan but to get dressed, to be less vulnerable, less exposed-- and then somehow he was sinking down in the elevator, wandering out into the street... God. Jim had let him go, without protest or objection. Inside Blair, something twisted painfully at the thought of what that must have done to him.

But done was done, and he couldn't fix it now. He'd left Jim, to wander the city, to come here. He leaned over the duckpond and considered his reflection, a mud-colored shape against the mirrored white sky. Featureless and flat, the shadow-shape slid and quivered as the cold morning breeze disturbed the surface of the water.

"You know, a lot of people underestimate the importance of closure at the end of relationships," Blair bent, knees hitting the raised edge of the pond, closed his eyes, and pushed both hands into the icy water. "Not you, baby, not you."

He opened and closed his hands underwater, the chill shooting up his arms. Shockingly soon, he was unable to feel his fingers at all. It felt right, Blair realized. It felt like the rest of him. "You win." he said. His throat was raw, and painfully tight. "You wanted me dead, well, you fucking got me, Davey."

There was a sudden noise behind him, a shocked breath. Blair froze, then straightened, pulling his hands out of the water, letting them drip. Another reflection appeared as the surface of the water stilled again; a shadow, moving closer, merging with his. Staring down at the pond, Blair sighed. "How'd you know I'd...?"

"I didn't." said Jim. "I followed you."

"Right." Blair clenched his fists. The blood pulsed painfully back into his chilled fingers. "Jim, I..." He broke off. How could he explain the terror of being wanted? "I'm sorry."

Jim nodded silently, glanced away for a moment, then shrugged out of his long black overcoat.

"Everything I was, he wanted. Everything he didn't have, and I..." Blair sighed as Jim reached over and draped his coat around Blair's shoulders, pulling it closed over his collarbone "I couldn't..." Taking a small, jerky step forward, Blair bent his head, leaned against Jim's chest, and closed his eyes. "You said you loved me."

"I do." Jim's hands closed firmly around his fists, strong thumbs rubbing warmth into them. "With everything I am."

A choked sound escaped Blair's throat, disbelief warring with hope. Taking a breath, he pulled back just enough to look up into Jim's eyes-- fearing even then the empty hunger. The hollow need.

To his surprise, Jim's eyes were full to overflowing. With love, warm and pure as his touch. It startled Blair, but what shocked him more was the realization that it was nothing new. It wasn't something that had happened just last night, in Jim's bed. The care in Jim's eyes had always been there. Shining out, spilling over. Just waiting for Blair to see, and seeing, to accept.

Blair laughed, startled tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes. He pressed closer, shaking, and locked his arms around Jim's waist in silent promise. "Jim... kiss me."

A grin flashed across Jim's face as he bent his head to kiss Blair's mouth softly. It was sweet, full of tenderness, of love, as all the kisses of the night before had been. The sun was rising now, over the low shadowed buildings all around then, and Blair felt its warmth on his face, on his back.

Smiling, he pulled away slightly, looking into Jim's eyes. Again, Blair heard the river's roar in the distance, or perhaps it was his own blood rushing in his ears, pounding in his heart-- almost painful, but a firm proof of life, a promise of warmth. Infused with sudden joy, he pulled Jim's head down and kissed him passionately-- kissed him back, truly, for the first time, and felt a connection between them flare to life-- a living bond, but more than just a link. More like a loop.

"I love you." he said, surprised at how easy it really was, at how giving everything could feel so much like being whole.

"I know," said Jim, gently.

Another smile crooked at the corners of Blair's mouth. He stifled it, leaning up to kiss Jim again. Pressed close to the warm body of his lover, Blair felt Jim's heartbeat pounding in tandem with his own, both in rhythmic counterpoint to the music of the river, that flowed endlessly, pouring itself eternally into the sea-- never-ending and never, never lessening.

[end]