"I wanted to. You don't know how many times I started that letter. But, in the end, I always chickened out and threw the paper away. I was too afraid."

"You? Afraid?" Damian asked in surprise as he slid his arm around Paul's shoulders. "Of what, pray tell?"

"I don't know." Paul sighed contentedly and nestled closer, until his head rested on Damian's chest. "It seems silly now, but...mostly, I guess I was afraid of being disappointed. I couldn't stand it if you stood me up. Also, I wasn't sure if he would let you come and I sure didn't want to see you getting into any more trouble there. Not on my account." Paul glanced up at Damian curiously. "You are still with him, aren't you?"

"With Conrad?" Damian nodded. "S. I'm still with him. But, as I've told you before, it's not at all what you think."

"Yeah, I know. You've said that."

"I said it because it's true. And, besides, as you see, even he would not keep me from you." It had been close though. A lot closer than Damian cared to admit. He'd been so angry when Conrad had threatened to interfere. He'd been frightened, desperate. And now, after everything he'd said to Conrad...

Damian could only pray that Conrad had been too distracted to remember all the insults Damian had thought to hurl at his head in an attempt to goad him in to changing his mind. His blood ran cold as he imagined what he might go home to, otherwise. Perhaps he would find he no longer had a home.

But now was not the time to worry about that. "He's not as intractable as he likes to appear," Damian said hopefully-rea.s.suring himself as well as Paul. "He's really quite reasonable when he wants to be. If things had been different, I think the two of you might have liked each other."

Paul shook his head. "Not a chance, babe, although..." Again, he studied Damian, his eyes drinking in every detail. "Who knows? I suppose anything's possible. I mean, you're here, right? And...you look good. You do. You look..." He broke off to laugh faintly. "d.a.m.n, you look good. I guess he must be treating you all right after all. I'm glad, you know? Because I really thought..." Another weak laugh. "Ah, s.h.i.t. You know what I thought about you and him. Not the first time I've been wrong where you're concerned, is it?" He laughed again then started to cough, wheezing and gasping for air.

"Breathe, Paul," Damian urged. He held Paul close and rubbed his back. "Deep breaths, nice and slow. Don't try and talk." When the coughing stopped, Damian reached for the cup of water on the bedside table and held the straw to his friend's lips.

Paul took a sip, then pushed the cup away. "I'm okay. Really. It's just..." A ragged smile twisted his lips. "h.e.l.l, baby, don't you know I'm always short of breath when I'm around you? Been that way ever since the night we met. Man, you really did it to me that night. Jesus, you were hot back then. I couldn't believe you picked me. Out of all the guys at that concert, any one of whom you could have had at a glance, you'd picked me to hit on. Me! I knew that was gonna be the night. You know? That whole day I just...I just knew that something good was gonna come my way. And then there you were and I thought, oh, f.u.c.k, did I just hit the jackpot or what? My first time and it's gonna be with this brutally hot, fabulously s.e.xy older guy. Someone with experience. Someone who knows what he's doing, who's been around a time or two and can show me everything I want to know. I nearly came on the spot-seriously-right there in my pants, just imagining it. I never told you that, did I?"

Once again he started to laugh and then to cough, almost choking on the words. "An older guy-that's funny, right? 'Cause right now...right now you look so young, D. You do. And I guess you were right all along. 'Cause there's no way I would have been as good for you as he was. Looking at you now, I can see that. You look... You look like a...like a kid almost..." Paul struggled to sit up higher, wheezing, gasping for breath a little more. His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at Damian, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. "s.h.i.t. Not even 'almost'. What the f.u.c.k, man? What's going on? That's not right."

Damian reached for Paul, hoping to soothe him. "Pablito. Calm yourself. Lie back down again now."

Paul shook him off. "No, really. Really now. I wanna know. What the h.e.l.l? You look...Christ, D, you look like you did ten years ago-twenty years ago. Now, how's that possible?"

"Shhh. Don't think about that right now. It's nothing. You're just imagining things." Damian met Paul's gaze and stared steadily into his eyes, lightly mesmerizing him. "Let it go, Paul. It's not important. Let's just...let's just sit here quietly, all right? Just breathe for me."

Paul's lips thinned. Rebellion gleamed for a moment in his eyes. "Not. Imagining. Anything." But gradually his breathing slowed and deepened. The wheezing stopped and he slumped against Damian's chest. When he resumed speaking, his voice was quiet, relaxed, almost dreamy. "Hottest guy I'd ever seen in my life. No lie. And you still are. You always were. Always... Oh, Christ, Damian..." His voice trailed off. His eyes drifted shut. "So tired. But...no. h.e.l.l, no. I can't sleep now. Don't want to miss another minute with you. Not now. s.h.i.t...so little time."

"I know, carito." Tears stung Damian's eyes as he pressed another kiss to Paul's temple. "And I'm sorry, truly, but I can't have you upsetting yourself like this. Not on my account." More irony. It seemed Conrad had been right once again. He'd be so happy to know that, so unbearably pleased with himself-not that Damian had any intention of telling him. His ego was quite large enough already.

After a moment, Paul roused himself once more. He startled for an instant and tried to sit up again, clutching at Damian's arm as if to a.s.sure himself that Damian was real, that he was still there.

"Shh," Damian soothed, gently pulling Paul back against him. "It's all right. Just calm down."

Paul relaxed again. "It should have been you and me, you know," he said sadly, sighing just a little. "We should have been together all along. That was the problem. That's where we went wrong. We should've done it that very first night, you know what I mean? Before anyone else got in the way. Screw the age thing. It's like you just said-it's not important."

"Please, Pablito," Damian begged. "Let's not do this again. What's done is done. If we could both go back and change things...many things would be different. But we can't go back. And, no matter how much you wanted it-how much we both wanted it-I could not have taken advantage of you like that. You have to know that's true."

"Do I? I don't think so, D. What I know is, we both wanted it-like you just said. And I should have had you that night, and every night since then. You should have been my first, my one and only. Because, maybe, if we'd started off that way-the way it should have been-then... Oh, f.u.c.k. Who the h.e.l.l knows what else might have changed, you know? Maybe I'd never have gotten caught up in the club scene like I did. You sure never seemed all that big a fan of it. And maybe...maybe I wouldn't have ended up here, in this f.u.c.king bed. I might never even have gotten sick if... And I can't even walk anymore, do you know that? I can't even stand on my own two feet without someone holding me up. It's just...it's just so f.u.c.king unfair. I had plans, D. I had dreams. I had a life, d.a.m.n it, and it wasn't supposed to end like this. How can it all be over this soon? How?"

Damian's breath caught as the terrible truth in Paul's words struck home. Every word, every accusation was irrefutable. Tears streamed down Damian's face. His hands shook as he held Paul close, rocking them both. "Oh, Pablito. I'm sorry. So very sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted you to be happy-truly I did. It's my fault. I see that now. Everything...it's all my fault."

"What? No." Paul twisted around to face him. "No, D, stop it. Stop! Oh, baby, no. It's not- f.u.c.k, that's not what I meant...or, I dunno, maybe it was. But, even so, h.e.l.l, don't listen to me. You don't need to apologize. s.h.i.t happens, right? I shouldn't have tried to lay it on you like that. That...that wasn't fair. That's not right. It's not your fault."

Damian shook his head. "No. It is my fault. If it hadn't been for me...if we'd never met, your life... Who knows how it would have turned out. But I took that away from you. I took that choice away. There's no excuse for that. I should have left you alone. I should have cut things off sooner. Right away. As soon as I realized how young you were. I should have never taken up with you at all. But I wanted you. I was so lonely and...and I was selfish. And, this time, it was you who paid the price for my mistakes. I continued to see you, even when I knew I shouldn't. I slept with you. I led you on. And I never once thought about how much I might be hurting you; not until it was too late, not until the damage was already done."

"Aw, no, don't say that." Paul wiped a tear from Damian's face, smiling faintly. "Damian, sweetie, you were the greatest adventure of my life! I don't regret a minute of the time we had together. The only thing I ever wished was that we could've had more. And, you know what? Forget what I said about how you should've been my first because... Because you were, in a way, you know? In my heart you were." He thumped his fist against his chest. "It was always you in here, D. Always. And, loving you was...it was everything. You were everything. Like that song we used to dance to-you remember that song? My first, my last, my everything-isn't that how it went?"

"Something like that, I believe."

"Yeah, well, that's what you were to me."

Every word Paul spoke d.a.m.ned Damian further. He swallowed hard, wishing he could say the same-wanting so much to be able to say the same, to tell Paul that he felt that way about him too. But he couldn't. Paul deserved the truth, not a feels-good lie. There had always been too many lies between them as it was. And as much as Damian loved Paul, he couldn't claim to feel the same desperate devotion he now realized Paul had felt for him. How could he have been so blind not to see it? How could he have been so selfish?

"And another thing," Paul said, using two feeble hands to frame Damian's face and tilt it toward him again. "I'm glad I was wrong about what's-his-name, about him being bad for you. 'Cause I only ever wanted you to be happy. I'm glad you have someone looking out for you-keeping tabs on you. Just like you always tried to do with me."

At that Damian frowned. "What do you mean?"

A spark of amus.e.m.e.nt gleamed in Paul's eyes. He laughed weakly. "You didn't think I knew about that, did you? About how you tried to keep track of me after I left, how you always wanted to know what I was up to? h.e.l.l, baby, I always knew. It's just...I was so f.u.c.king angry with you. That's why I never said anything, why I wouldn't even answer your letters at first, why I didn't write you until it was almost too late. It made me so mad to think that...that, you were out there somewhere, trying to check up on me, caring for me, wanting to look out for me, but you wouldn't let me do the same for you."

Damian sighed. "That's not entirely why I did it... I mean, I wasn't..."

"It's okay." Paul smiled. "It doesn't matter. It's all water under the bridge now, right? It's just... I wanted to be that for you, you know? I wanted to be the one you depended on. I wanted- Oh, Christ," he broke off, laughing again, gasping for breath. "Oh, f.u.c.k me. I can't believe I'm saying this. I wanted to be 'the guy who grew old with you'. Can you believe that s.h.i.t? I really thought that. I really did."

Again the laughter turned into a struggle for breath. Damian sat up, alarmed. "Paul, stop. No more now. Let it go. Just breathe."

Paul shook his head. "No," he gasped, his lungs heaving for air. "No, listen. It's funny, right? 'Cause...look at us, man. It ain't happening to either one of us. Getting old, I don't suppose that's something we'll ever have to worry about, right? Only some of us...some of us are doing it more grace...more gracefully. Some of us..."

"Please, Pablito," Damian begged again. "No more talking. You'll exhaust yourself."

"No." Paul shook his head again and Damian could see a little of that old stubbornness in the clenching of his jaw. "Have to, d.a.m.n it. When else am I gonna talk? Wanna tell you...oh, s.h.i.t. I really shoulda written you sooner, you know? I'm such an idiot. What the f.u.c.k was I thinking? All that time I wasted. So stupid. There are so many things I want to tell you. Not just good-bye but also thank you and, most of all, 'cause I know I didn't say it near enough when I had the chance, when I should've said it, when it maybe would have made a difference. I wanna say...I love you. 'Cause I do, baby. I love you so much, D. I always have."

"And I, you, Pablito," Damian said, blinking away his tears once more. "Always."

A small satisfied smile curved Paul's lips. "Yeah?"

Damian nodded, trying to return the smile, and not quite succeeding. "S, mi carito. I do. More than you know." More than Damian himself had known himself for far too long.

"I figured, you know," Paul sighed and snuggled against Damian once again. "Don't know why we hardly ever said it before. Stupid of us. Still, I'm glad you told me now." His eyes closed and he seemed once again on the verge of sleep; even the choppiness of his breathing seemed to ease. "It's just nice to hear the words sometimes, I guess. Thank you."

"De nada," Damian murmured, his attention held by Paul's chest as it rose and fell; and by each slow exhale and the seemingly endless wait until the next rasping inhale had begun. "You're right, Pablito. I should have told you sooner."

Paul sighed. "Like I said, we both should've...should've..." His breath ghosted out and then in again. Out...and then in. Out. And then... In. Out...

Gasping a little, Paul shook himself awake. He tipped his head back until he could see Damian's face and smiled softly. "Damian..." The name was barely a whisper on his lips. "d.a.m.n, baby...I've missed you. So much. I'm so glad... So glad you're here now."

"Breathe, nino. I'm glad too. But, no more talk. You need your rest. You'll tire yourself out this way."

Paul ignored him. "Doesn't matter now. I guess... In the end, it all worked out like it was supposed to. I was wrong, but...I got you after all. Didn't I? I finally...finally got lucky. Got...exactly what I wanted... You... It was always you..."

A shattered sigh. Another agonizing struggle to inhale. A cough that ended in a wheeze and a gasp. And then another staggered exhale.

"Guess this means I..." Paul took a deep breath and let it out again. "I can't even call you the one who got away anymore, can I?"

Damian shook his head. "No, Pablito. I was never that."

"Right. 'Cause here you are."

"S." Tears tracked slowly down Damian's face as he counted the seconds between each breath. "Here I am. And I'm not going anywhere. Breathe, Pablito." He stroked Paul's head, willing his heart to beat, wishing for some way to ease the terrible pressure that seemed to seize Paul's lungs, squeezing harder and harder with each breath.

"Love you," Paul gasped as his eyes closed and his head drooped forward once again. Muscles relaxing, he settled more heavily in Damian's arms. "Love you, Damian. So much. Always..."

"S, carito, I love you too."

Another sigh. A faint smile that trembled for just a moment on his lips, then melted away. Again Damian waited...and waited... "Breathe, Paul," he urged when the wait went on a little too long. "Paul?" Fear clutched at Damian's heart. "Breathe for me, Pablito." No response. "Nino?" The silence overwhelmed him and he sat up quickly, taking Paul by the shoulders, staring intently at his face, willing him to answer. "Paul?"

He shook him, gently at first then more urgently, watching for any reaction, any sign-a change of expression, a hint of movement, the flicker of an eyelid, some tiny spark of life. Paul's head lolled to the side. His body hung limp and heavy in Damian's grasp.

"No." The word was a whimper, a prayer, a horrified denial of what Damian already knew to be the truth.

He was Vampire. He knew death with an intimacy few other creatures could ever lay claim to. He could taste the emptiness in the air, smell the thickening stillness of Paul's blood as it pooled and settled in his veins. He could feel the weight of a heart that was finally at peace, a dear and tender heart, one that would never again leap with joy, or pulse with life or race at a lover's touch. At his touch.

He knew, and still he shook his head in vehement denial, unwilling to accept what all his senses were telling him was so. "No, no, no, no, no. You can't." A sob tore from Damian's throat. He knew his pleas would never be answered and still he couldn't stop. The broken appeals continued to tumble from his lips as he gathered Paul into his arms again and held him close. "Don't do this, Paul. Do you hear me? Please, Pablito, you can't. Not yet. Oh, please, not yet. I'm not ready to let you go again so soon. Stay with me, carito. Please stay. Just a little while, just a little longer, just... Oh, Paul."

Chapter Twelve.

One week later...

The moon was riding low in the sky when Conrad made his way back home. He glanced resentfully at the milky orb whose ever-changing phases reminded him nightly of the weary pa.s.sage of time. His mind turned once again to thoughts of Damian. When was he coming home? Why had Conrad not thought to ask what hospital Paul was in, or even what city? Why had he not insisted Damian keep in touch while he was gone? Could he have been afraid to have his concerns shrugged off, or to have yet another request dismissed?

Was it too much to ask that the young man, if he really was about to die, might hurry up and do so, and not torment Damian any longer than necessary? Or, no...maybe not. That was just selfishness. No wonder Damian had called him cruel. This was, perhaps, the only type of occasion when to prolong one's agony was a boon and a blessing. However painful Damian found his current situation, he would likely not want it to end any sooner than need be. Conrad knew what it was to watch loved ones die. He'd seen it happen both ways, fast and slow, and truly he could not decide which loss was the hardest to bear.

As he rounded the last corner, his gaze instinctively cut to the house. His heart leaped as he caught a flash of silver in the driveway. Damian's car? Yes. It was. Conrad quickened his pace, long strides eating up the sidewalk, until he was practically sprinting up the front stairs. Once inside the house, however, he paused. The faint murmur of voices reached his ears. Was Damian not alone? He couldn't have brought the boy back here with him...could he? And for what? In the hope that Conrad might agree to turn him? No, surely not that! If Damian were so lost to the danger inherent in taking such a step, why would he even wait for Conrad's permission? Why would he not choose, instead, to defy him one more time and simply turn the boy himself? He'd been gone long enough for that to have happened. Maybe that's exactly what he had done...

And if he had? Conrad had no answer for that. Paul knew too much, and he couldn't be trusted with the twins' secret-with their safety. Conrad could not possibly allow it. He couldn't allow Damian to keep him, nor could he kill him. Not unless he was prepared to kill Damian as well.

Not knowing what to expect, Conrad tracked the voices to Damian's room. The door was ajar; he pushed it open and looked inside, his eyes immediately finding the two figures huddled on Damian's bed. No. It can't be...

It wasn't. But it took several seconds for his racing thoughts to adjust themselves to the reality. Relief flooded his senses, the same relief he heard in Julie's weary sigh as she met his gaze. "Thank goodness you're back." The worry remained etched on her face, however, as she gestured at Damian, curled unresponsive at her side, his face to the wall, his posture rigid. "Something's wrong. And I can't even get him to tell me what it is."

"I have told you," Damian replied in uncharacteristically harsh tones. "At least a dozen times already. It's nothing."

"It is not nothing," Julie snapped. "No matter how many times you say it, it won't make it so. You think I don't know you well enough to know when you're hurting? I'm not a child, D."

"Don't!" Damian's voice cracked. A growl left his lips, the undercurrent in his tone so savage it sent Julie scrambling off the bed in alarm. Even Conrad was taken aback by it. "Do not call me that!"

Tears sprang into Julie's eyes as she gazed at Conrad in helpless appeal. "What's happened to him?"

Conrad crossed the room and hugged her close. "It will be all right, my dear," he whispered in her ear. "We'll talk later. Meanwhile, don't worry. Just leave us alone for a little while. Let me take care of this-yes?"

Julie nodded. "If you say so." She cast one last look at Damian and then departed. Conrad locked the door behind her. Then he went and took her place on the bed. Damian shuddered in reaction to the tentative hand Conrad laid on his back but otherwise he ignored him, just as he'd ignored Julie, and continued to lie there with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. His grief surrounded him like a wall. Conrad could feel the tension in Damian's muscles. He tried a gentle ma.s.sage, tried rubbing soothing circles up and down along Damian's spine. No response.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, Conrad pushed in closer. He pulled Damian around to face him, turning him until he lay with his head in Conrad's lap. Damian made no protest, allowing himself to be manipulated however Conrad saw fit. Conrad didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or cause for further worry. In all their time together, he'd never seen Damian in such a state.

"There. That's better, isn't it?" Conrad asked, not getting an answer; not that he'd expected one. He peered at Damian curiously. His face was set in hard lines, pain and loss written in each one. His eyes were dry, open, unfocused.

"So, is he-" Conrad cut himself off, quickly. No. Wrong question. "He's gone then, I presume?"

A shudder wracked Damian's frame. He nodded. "S. Gone forever."

Conrad sighed. "I'm so sorry, my dear. You were there in time though, weren't you, to be with him at the end? You had that at least, I hope?"

Again Damian nodded, but his eyes squeezed shut and he grimaced as though in pain.

"Ah, caro." Conrad laid a brief kiss against Damian's head then went back to stroking his arm and shoulder, hoping to give comfort with his touch. "It's hard, I know. But...you loved him, did you not? And he loved you. Cherish that thought, my dear. Cling to the love you felt for one another and find what peace you may in it. Not even time itself can take that from you. I promise."

At first, Conrad thought his attempts were helping, that his words were getting through to Damian and were, perhaps, easing his pain. Damian's breath stuttered and grew uneven and the rigid tension in his muscles seemed to lessen. Then a fine tremor seemed to seize him and an angry sob broke from his throat. "Peace?" he croaked. "What peace can I find in that, Conrad? What peace do I even deserve to find? I ruined his life!"

"What? No. Impossible. Why would you think such a thing?" Conrad all but snarled the words. "Did he tell you that?"

"Of course not." Damian sighed. "He denied it to the end. It makes no difference. It's true all the same. He loved me and... Dios mio, what did I do? I cheated him out of any chance for happiness he might have had. And likely shortened his life, as well."

"Nonsense. It was his disease that shortened his life; that was certainly not your fault. And, young as he was, still he lived a much longer and fuller life than many others you and I have known. Loving you could never be a waste, my dear. He was lucky to have had the opportunity. If he were here, if you were to ask him, I'm sure he'd tell you so himself. As for the rest...we can never know what might have been. Surely you must know that by now? I don't know what could have put such a thought in your mind."

"Isn't it obvious?" Damian asked wearily.

"To you perhaps. But I'm not in your head, Damian, nor have I been with you this past week. Will you not explain it to me? Tell me. What is it that makes you so certain you ruined his life?"

"I suppose..." Damian gestured vaguely, as though trying to find the words to explain what he wanted to say. "It's because, in a way, I think... I think I was to him what you have always been to me."

Conrad stiffened. He swore he felt his heart stop beating. Is that what Damian thought? That Conrad had ruined his life and...and what was the other thing? Cheated him out of any chance of happiness? "I see."

"Do you? I wish I had seen-before it was too late. But I never realized what I was doing to him. I didn't see...or maybe I didn't want to see. Maybe, deep down, I knew all along what I was doing to him. I just refused to admit it. I was weak. Arrogant. Callous. Selfish. I didn't think. He gave me friendship, love, companionship. He gave me everything I needed, everything I asked for. And what did I ever give him in return, other than heartache? I should have known better. I should have done better by him."

"Hindsight, my dear." Conrad grimaced at the bitter taste the words left in his mouth. "I don't suppose any of us ever really see what we should have seen until it's too late to undo what we should never have done." Should he apologize now for a five-hundred-year-old mistake, or was it pointless? After all this time... Was there any way to make amends? Was there any sense in even trying? "I'm sorry, caro. Truly, truly I am."

"As you should be," Damian muttered, his voice bleak. "You could have stopped it. You should have stopped it. You should never have let it happen. You should have told me. You should have made me see. You should have...done...something."

Again Conrad wondered what Damian meant. Should he have stopped Damian from seeing Paul? When? This last week, or all along? Or perhaps Damian meant that Conrad should have stopped himself all those centuries ago, that he should have reined in his own wild urges and refused to turn Damian, even though he'd begged him to. If Conrad had only hardened his heart against him back then, none of this would have happened.

Or maybe it was something else altogether that Damian was blaming him for. Everything else. Half a millennium of arrogance, of thoughtlessness, of one callous error after another, compounded over and over again...

He could always ask, of course. He could inquire as to which error, which grievous fault Damian was laying on his doorstep this time around. But Conrad had already received enough unpleasant surprises for one night. Why beg for more?

It's not like it mattered. The die had long been cast between them. What was done was done and nothing could change it. "Yes. You're quite right. I probably should have acted differently. But, it's a little late to think of that now, isn't it?"

"S. I suppose it is."

"So we will say no more about it. Now, have you eaten at all these past few nights?" Conrad asked, changing the subject to something more practical. "Or gotten any sleep?"