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The Emergency Room at Stream Ridge General was quiet and strangely empty. Besides Kevin, there were only three people there, a mother and her young son and an older gentlemen who clutched his stomach and groaned to himself.

Charlie had been taken back half an hour before. Kevin stayed behind, not comfortable going with them like he was a family member or a boyfriend.

Technically there was no reason he needed to stay; he had done all he needed to, right? Hell, he could have just stepped over his body in the parking lot and gone to bed. He'd gone above and beyond.

He stayed anyway. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened to him and he didn't like the idea of leaving him alone.

A nurse approached him, a middle aged doe who had seen lighter days. She didn't look happy.

"Mr. Stair? Would you come with me please?" she said. It didn't sound much like a request.

"Is he awake?" Kevin asked as he stood.

"Just come with me."

He followed her through the double doors that separated the waiting room from the triage center. They passed by several curtained alcoves, Kevin thought he saw Charlie in one, sitting up in a bed, but she led him right past and into a full private room. Once they were both inside, she closed the door and then turned on him like Cujo.

"How dare you?"

Kevin was taken aback. "Excuse me?" he said.

"How dare you sit in that waiting room, twiddling your thumbs and looking innocent when you do something like that. You're a piece of shit, beating up on your boy toy till he can't even walk. I've informed the police."

"Is that what he told you?" Kevin said, his hackles up. Was this some dirty trick of Trista's? Had he been wrong about Charlie? Were they really together?

"He said he fell down some stairs."

"I'm sure he did," Kevin said, "After his _girlfriend_pushed him down them." The nurse didn't have a response for that."How bad is he hurt?"

"His right arm is broken, he has three cracked ribs on his left side and his left ankle is very badly sprained. There is bruising on seventy percent of his body."

"My god, will he be alright?" Kevin asked.

"He doesn't have any serious internal injuries besides the bone breaks, thank heaven."

Kevin nodded, relieved for more than one reason. He wasn't wrong about Trista and Charlie, and the boy wasn't seriously hurt.

"Can I see him?" Kevin asked.

"That's up to the doctor."

Kevin gave her a look. She crossed her arms under her breasts and drew herself up as tall as she could. It didn't amount to much. He considered it for a moment and then pushed her aside. She let out a squawk of protest and caught herself on a set of cabinets next to the door. The door almost hit her as Kevin opened it and marched through.

"Stop," she called, but he ignored her. He headed for the alcove he thought he'd seen Charlie in. He swept the curtain aside, revealing the young boar just as the nurse caught up with him and tried to pull him away. He shrugged her off and sat on a stool placed next to the bed.

"I'm going to call security," the nurse said and started to go, but a voice stopped her.

"That won't be necessary," it said. Both she and Kevin looked to the source. It was Detectives Howl and Sunrise. A doctor stood with them.

"What happened, Dr. Stair? Did you decide he wasn't so innocent after all?" Det. Howl said.

Kevin shook his head. "I didn't do this. If I had, do you think I'd be here? I'd have left him to die."

"You could have had an attack of conscience," Det. Sunrise said.

"Or maybe you're smart enough to know that if he died you'd be up for a murder charge since you have the strongest motive," Howl added.

"Not me, I said."

"Dr. Stair didn't do anything to me," Charlie said. The entire room turned to him. He didn't look to be in as much pain as he had been. The swelling had gone down a little, his eye was no longer held shut and he was no longer gritting his teeth.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell us what happened so we can do something about it," Sunrise said.

Charlie looked down and then away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You two deserve each other."

Kevin put his hand on Charlie's. The boar looked up, surprised.

"Charlie, you're safe," Kevin said.

"For how long? Trista doesn't forgive. If she did this after I got her put in a holding cell for a few hours, what do you think she'd do if I got her imprisoned? That's assuming she doesn't charm her way out of it like she does with everything."

Det. Sunrise's teeth audibly began to grind. Det. Howl put his hand on his shoulder to lead him away, but Sunrise shrugged him off.

"You two are a couple of morons, you know that? Do you think the justice system is a broken sieve? If she pushed you down a flight of stairs, that's aggravated assault. You think we're just going to slap her on the wrist and let her go? She'll go to jail for ten years, minimum, especially if you can prove she's as psycho as you say."

"How am I supposed to do that? Trista could talk her way out of being caught mutilating and raping kittens. Forget it," Charlie said.

"Oh, so you're just going to let her stay free. Yeah, that'll keep you safe."

Charlie kept his eyes on his blanket.Sunrise sighed.

"Fine. Good luck to you both," he said in a tone of voice that suggested he hoped they were hit by a train. He and his partner left.

The doctor stepped up with a small stack of paper. "Here is your pain prescription and instructions for taking care of yourself. I'm not keeping you. Once the nurse arrives with the wheelchair, you'll be free to go." He handed over the papers and left. The overbearing nurse was gone too, leaving Kevin and Charlie alone.

"Do you have any friends you could stay with? I'm assuming you're not going back," Kevin said after a few awkward moments.

Charlie picked at his new cast while he shook his head. "Trista kept me pretty isolated, I guess. I didn't really notice before, but I don't think I really know anyone here in town."

Kevin nodded, despite Charlie not looking at him. Part of him was screaming at him to just turn and leave. His duty was far beyond done. Charlie didn't deserve any more help, hadn't deserved the help he'd been given.

The better, or perhaps dumber part, told him that if Charlie needed punishing, what he'd received was more than appropriate. Kevin hoped that wasn't also the part of him that still couldn't help but react to his looks.

Still, the angry side was very loud, but that was probably because it wasn't the side that was in charge. He had already decided what he was going to do and it wasn't happy.

"So there's no place I could drop you?" Kevin asked, even though the answer was obvious. The boar shook his head. The nurse appeared with the wheelchair and a pile of clothes.

"I've got a place for you," Kevin said. He stepped out of the alcove and drew the curtain.

"Wait," Charlie called. Kevin poked his head back in. The boar was blushing at the nurse who was standing with her arms sternly crossed and her foot tapping impatiently. "Could you help me get dressed? I can't really stand by myself and, no offense, ma'am, but you don't really look strong enough for the job."

"Nonsense," she snapped, "you'll lean on the bed, it's a simple matter, it's been done millions of times."

"Still, I..." his blush deepened, the red complementing the purple bruises, and his eyes stayed glued to his lap.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I got you undressed. I wouldn't be looking anyway," she said, suddenly understanding his hesitation.

Kevin picked up the pants. They were gray sweatpants and far too large for the boar, they might have even fit Kevin, but he was sure that was intentional. He was sure to be tender all over and the looser the garments the better.

"It's alright, nurse," Kevin said, "I'll do it."

She hmphed and threw the curtain shut behind her.

Charlie and Kevin stared at each other for a few seconds before Charlie looked away. "Thanks," he mumbled. He gingerly put his good foot on the ground and put some weight on it. He grimaced. Kevin could see dark purple bruises all down the outside of his leg. His bad foot followed even slower.

It was a slow process, getting Charlie presentable. Every inch of him seemed to hurt, but the overlarge garments made it so he didn't have to move too much and the sleeves of the shirt were big enough to go over the cast. Getting Charlie into the chair was quicker and getting him out of the hospital seemed quicker still. Neither one of them wanted to linger.

Kevin flipped on the light switch as he helped Charlie through the door. His vague recollections of Charlie and Trista bringing him home that night tugged on his coat but he forced them aside. He was sick of telling himself it was in the past, but there was little else he could do when they kept insisting that it wasn't.

He deposited Charlie on the couch. The young man looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" Kevin asked.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Charlie said, looking down at his lap, "it's just weird being here again."

Good, Kevin's unforgiving side said.

"It is," Kevin's voice said.

Charlie looked up with the most hangdog look Kevin had seen since he'd apologized in Kevin's classroom. It was a look Charlie seemed to be adept at. Again his unforgiving side snickered that he was being played by a classically trained puppy dog. "I really don't need to stay here, I'm sure I could find some place."

Kevin shook his head, "Worry about it tomorrow."

He collected a blanket from the linen closet and a pillow from his bed and brought them back to Charlie. The young boar hadn't moved.

"You must be tired," Kevin said. He dropped the pillow at one end of the couch and piled up the couch cushions at the other, "Do you need me to help you get undressed?"

"No, I'll just sleep in my clothes. Kevin?"

"Yes, Charles?" Kevin said as he unfolded the blanket.

"Thank you."

Kevin shrugged his shoulders as Charlie carefully levered his sprain onto the cushions. He draped the blanket over the young man and tucked it under his sides.

"Get some sleep."

Kevin closed his bedroom door and leaned back on it. He started to turn the lock, but stopped himself. Charlie wasn't going anywhere and he might need help in the middle of the night. For all he knew leaving the door unlocked would make all the difference between having a clean couch in the morning and renting a steam machine. Still his fingers lingered on the knob. After another moment of contemplation, he dropped his hand and stepped towards his bed.

He felt so tired. The bed stood invitingly in front of him, but he couldn't just let himself fall into it. Instead he stripped off his clothes, carefully sorting them into their respective hampers, and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he reentered his bedroom, he stopped dead with his eyes on the big empty bed. Again he cursed himself for screwing up with Wesley. He wouldn't be about to climb between cold, lonely sheets if he'd just kept his head out of his ass for once.

Who cared if he wanted to act like he was his father? It was completely harmless. He hadn't even implied that he wanted Kevin to act the part. On the other hand, Charlie would probably be laying in the parking lot still, if not something worse. Thinking of Charlie, he realized sleeping naked as usual would probably not be the wisest course of action. He fished a pair of little-used pajama pants out of the bottom of a drawer and put them on. They were silky and quite comfortable, a gift from Herbert. He turned off the light and climbed into bed. Despite the jumble of thoughts in his head, he was asleep in moments.

Someone was touching him. It felt good, a feather-light touch on his scrotum, fingers strumming gently. Hot breath, then a cool breeze through pursed lips. He opened his eyes, a wide ass filled his vision. He knew that ass well, he'd played with it for years. He reached up and slapped it hard, leaving his print behind. His partner jumped in shock, then looked back with an accusing glare.

"Here I was being all nice to you and you go and abuse me!" Charlie said. His face was swollen and bruised, dried blood clung to the underside of his nose. Kevin stared at him in horror.

He opened his eyes. He was alone, of course he was alone, he was always alone. He heard Charlie moving in the hall, one hand on the wall to support himself as he half limped, half hopped towards the bathroom. The sky was just brightening in preparation for the dawn. It was far too early to be awake after last night, but he had no desire to go back to his dreams. He crawled out of bed and put his feet on the cold floor.

By the time he reached the hallway, Charlie was leaning on the wall a few feet from the bathroom, panting.

"Are you alright?" Kevin asked. It was much cooler in the hallway, he felt his nipples harden and wished he'd put on his bathrobe. Charlie's head jerked around at Kevin's voice.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I've just got to go to the bathroom. I was trying not to make any noise but I guess--" Kevin put up his hand and Charlie subsided.

"You didn't wake me, or if you did it was a good thing. Let me give you a hand," Kevin said and without waiting for permission, half carried him into the bathroom. The boar felt good pressing into him, and his hard nipple scraped against his shirt, sending little dashes of pleasure he did his best to ignore.

"One or two?" Kevin asked as they approached the toilet.

"Huh? Oh, uh, number two." Charlie said, blushing. Kevin helped him turn around and before he could even think about it, pulled his pants down and helped him sit. The boar's blush deepened.

"I could have--" he started. Kevin, realizing what he'd just done, cut him off, his ears twitching as he spoke.

"Sorry, I kind of went into autopilot there. I used to help Herbert..." he trailed off and looked away, "anyway, I'll be in the kitchen. If you need anything, just shout and I'll hear you." He fled the bathroom. Just as he left earshot, Charlie's words reached him.

"I'm sorry," he said to the space Kevin had occupied.

Kevin busied himself in the kitchen after throwing his bathrobe on. He didn't feel hungry, especially after the business in the bathroom, but if he skipped a meal, he was sure to overdo it next time he ate. Besides, Charlie was probably hungry, and even if he wasn't, he needed to eat. Bones don't knit and bruises don't heal without fuel. The next he heard of Charlie was the boar hobbling down the hall. After making sure he could leave without ruining breakfast, he joined him.

"You can ask for help," Kevin said and reached out to take Charlie's arm. Charlie waved him off.

"I appreciate it, Dr. Stair, but really, I can manage." The look on his face added an unspoken, "and I don't deserve it anyway." Kevin ignored his wave, his words, and his look and helped him into the kitchen anyway. He didn't fight it once Kevin had taken a hold of him.

"You're supposed to call me Kevin," Kevin said as he lowered Charlie into a chair. He shrugged and scratched at an imagined speck on the table. Kevin returned to his pans and finished preparing their meal. Neither of them spoke until Kevin plopped a plate in front of Charlie.

"I forgot to ask, you're not a vegetarian, are you?" he said as he took his own seat. He looked up after he was settled and for the smallest fraction of a second he was confused as to why Herbert was in the wrong chair. His inner cynic scoffed at him.

Just as he was about to tuck into his food, he remembered Charlie's foot needed to be elevated. He pushed back his seat and ducked under the table.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked and Kevin gently took hold of his calf and lifted it.

"Putting your foot up," he said. The only chair close enough for his foot to reach was Herbert's. He hesitated, recalculating the distances, but he was certain that if he tried putting it in the free seat across from him, it would amount to no more than hooking his heel on the edge and that would doubtless do more harm than good. Still, he hesitated, as awkward as he felt with the young man's leg in his hands.

Idiot, it's only a chair. It's not a holy relic, liable to be defiled by the foot of another. Yet, he turned put it on his own chair before crawling from under the table. He sat in the chair opposite Charlie and pulled his plate over. The young boar had a puzzled look on his face, but Kevin immediately turned his full attention to his plate, forestalling any questions.

"This is really good," Charlie said after a while. Kevin grunted a thank you, but otherwise ignored him. Finally, Kevin finished his plate, and no longer having an excuse, looked up at Charlie. He was already finished with his plate, and by his demeanor, had been for some time. Kevin took both their plates to the sink.

"Is there anything else of Dr. Humble's I should avoid?" Charlie asked. Startled, Kevin almost dropped the plates into the sink. He looked over his shoulder and saw Charlie carefully take his foot down and struggle to his feet.

"What do you mean?" he asked, as if it weren't completely obvious that his apartment was a shrine to his husband.

"Your bathroom still looks like two people live here, but half of everything hasn't been used in a long time. You put my foot on your own chair instead of the one opposite for no reason I can think of, other than Herbert must have sat there."

"Alright, so what?" Kevin said.

"So nothing, I just don't want to do anything I shouldn't. It must be hard enough for you that I'm here period, the last thing I want to do is disturb you further."

"What makes you think there's something wrong with you being here?" Kevin asked, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Charlie shook his head and hobbled towards the living room. "You can drop the act, the only reason I'm here is because you feel responsible for what happened to me. As soon as I can arrange it, I'm going home. You've done more than I deserve already just taking me to the emergency room instead of leaving me out in that parking lot." He stopped to rest, leaning against the wall.

"Well, you're not responsible. Trista and I are. I can't ever make amends with you and I can never repay you for what you've done for me. The very least I can do is to intrude on you as little as possible from now until I can find another place. If you had corroborated my story, I'd be in jail now with a permanent record as a rapist. I'm thinking getting shoved down some stairs is getting off easy."

He pushed away from the wall and hobbled out of the room. Kevin realized the water was running and the dishes weren't getting washed. He contemplated dropping the plates and following the young man, but realized he had absolutely no idea what he would say. So he washed.

Once everything was clean, he looked for something else to do, but he was a victim of his own tidiness. He checked the time, barely nine. It was time for his daily walk. Perfect, an excuse to get out of the house. What could he do with Charlie? He didn't want to leave him alone. The only option that came to mind was to give him Sheila and George Tangle's number.

That was a conversation he was looking forward to. It was inevitable ever since Charlie had reappeared, but he had a good idea what Sheila was going to say and it was long and loud. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible. It would only get worse if he waited. She'd be able to add him hiding it from her to her list of things to berate him about.

He dressed in his walking clothes and told Charlie what was going on and gave him the Tangles' number.

"You're welcome to use the library, it's in there," he said, pointing, "or you know, the TV works. Webfilms is active on it, so there's that. I'll be back in about an hour, I guess."

The Tangles lived directly under Kevin's apartment. He took the stairs and knocked on their door. George opened the door.

"Kevin! To what do we owe this pleasure?" he said. He wore a shirt that almost reached his knees. Kevin recognized it as one of Herbert's. Sheila had claimed them as nightgowns when Herbert declared them too worn. This was the first time he'd ever seen George wearing one, but it didn't come as a surprise. With what he knew about the Tangles, nothing came as a surprise.

"Is Sheila in? She's going to want to yell at me, I'm sure," Kevin said.

"Why?" George asked, "she's completely passed out still. We were up late last night. She was up later than me." A young female sheepdog walked passed by the opening into the hallway. She was completely naked, either unaware or uncaring that the front door was open. Kevin rubbed at his temples and nodded.

"I see," he said. "Look, I've got a guy up in my apartment--"

"Really? Alright, good job man, I knew you'd get back on your feet again. So to speak," George said, interrupting.

Kevin shook his head, "It's not like that. It's Charlie." He winced internally.

"Charlie? Who's Charlie? You don't mean that Charlie, do you? Doppelganger Charlie? Jesus, Kev, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Can we save all that for when Sheila's up? I'd rather get both barrels at once. He turned himself and Trista in, so Trista pushed him down some stairs, broke his arm, some ribs, sprained his ankle. He's not too mobile. I told him he could call you if he needed help while I was out."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Do you want to make me a liar? I'm asking as a personal favor, as the husband of your very best friend. He probably won't even call you anyway. It's going to be for less than an hour."

"You didn't used to lay it on so thick," George said wryly, before nodding. "Fine. If he calls we'll help, I'll help. Sheila'd probably drown him in the toilet."

"Thank you."

Kevin took his walk at a more leisurely pace than usual. He was in no hurry to get back to his apartment. His thoughts were mostly on Charlie and what he would to do about him.

He felt a strong affection for the boy. Not an attraction, he could step back far enough to see that. What stirrings of desire he felt were completely vestigial, reflections of Herbert. More he felt he was the son that he and Herbert might have had were nature more kind. He felt silly about it, but it was the only thing that made sense.

That seemed settled enough. The question of what to do with him was not. Their relationship was possibly fatally poisoned by the past. That was the only thing that seemed clear. He knew no way of fixing it. He couldn't be sure he really wanted to, even though he was beginning to think of him as a son. In the end, he threw the whole thing out of his mind. Charlie would stay with him until he made other arrangements and whatever happened, happened.

He knocked on the Tangle's door when he returned. There was no answer. He knocked again and got no response. He furrowed his brow and was about to turn away, when the corner of a slip of paper caught his eye. It was peeking out under the door. He hooked it with a fingernail and pulled it free. A bit of tape was sticking to it. He turned it over.

Went upstairs to keep Charlie company.

What the fuck did that mean? Images of Charlie hanging out of a window came to mind. Before his imagination could consider something worse, he made for the stairs.

There were no screams or sound of a scuffle as he approached his door. He didn't know if that was a good sign or not. He hesitated with his hand on the knob, momentarily giving in to the irrational notion that leaving the door closed kept whatever was behind it from being. He turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Blood was everywhere. Charlie lay on the floor, his arm outstretched towards the door. His skull was caved in, a bloody knickknack next to him. Sheila sat on the couch, naked, her fur matted with blood while her husband hungrily lapped at the vee of her legs.

What the fuck? Kevin, get a grip.

He opened the door. The three of them sat on the couch watching the television. Sheila and George bookended the young boar, whose sleeping head lolled against Sheila's shoulder.

Somehow this was further out of the realm of possibility than the fetishized murder scene, but here it was. Kevin stood in his doorway and gaped. Sheila looked up at him and put her finger to her lips. As if he were capable of making sound of any kind.

George got up and pulled Kevin into the room and quietly closed the door.

"Is he dead?" Kevin asked, the only question that seemed to make any sense.

"No, he's not dead," George said with a snort.

"What happened?"

"Sheila decided she wanted to meet him once she was awake enough to know what was going on. Presumably turning himself in went a long way. She didn't make a single noise to hint that she knew what he'd done. She didn't even ask him how he got hurt, she just went into mother mode. I don't understand it any more than you do. I've got to admit, though, he seems like a good kid."

"Did you spike her coffee or something?"

George patted his friend on the shoulder and went back to the couch. "You should sit down," he said, "you don't look too steady."

Kevin joined them on the couch, sitting next to George. As soon as he did, Sheila stood up, careful to keep the sleeping boar upright. She kissed Kevin on the forehead and took George's hand. He pulled himself up with it.

"It's really too bad he got himself mixed up with that bitch," she said, "he seems very sweet."

"Who are you and what have you done with Sheila?" Kevin said.

"Don't be obnoxious," she said, "women are allowed to change their minds."

"You're so lucky you're gay," George said. Sheila elbowed him in the ribs and the two made their exit.

Kevin looked over at the sleeping boar. He looked more like Herbert than ever and Kevin had to look away. He felt himself sliding deeper into the Twilight Zone. A near clone of Herbert was sleeping on his couch, one who had participated in his rape not a month ago. Sheila apparently decided she liked him, even though the last time the subject had come up, she was ready to hunt him down and serve him his own balls without sauce. His publishers wanted him to work with a sexy young panda who, apparently, was just as interested in a personal relationship as a professional one, if not more. An attractive older man he'd randomly met at a bar had been so taken with him, he'd tried to jump Kevin's bones then and there

What new blows to reality were on their way? Was Trista going to reappear, declare herself a changed woman and begin keeping house? Maybe George was going to announce he was leaving Sheila for a sea bass. Would Sheila declare her swinging days were done and George would be all she'd want from now on? Looking back at the last few days, he felt exactly like a character on a daytime soap. Anything could happen. And it probably would.