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had been all the Christmas he’d ever wanted.
    Brian’s flesh was warm, and he was a quiet, comforting heart for
    Talker to curl up in, and oh, God, it was worth it, all of it, the pushy
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    people with their horrible questions, the personal evisceration, it
    was all fucking worth it, just to curl up next to Brian and know that
    they’d be safe.

    “SO YOU didn’t have to see Trevor?” Brian had asked eventually,
    and Talker had shaken his head against his shoulder.
    “That was the whole purpose of the plead-out,” Talker told him
    candidly, his voice muffled by Brian’s chest. “Because I’m too freaky
    to put on the stand, and Trev didn’t know that you were too out of it
    to testify—”
    “I wouldn’t have,” Brian said firmly, and Talker closed his eyes.
    “I know you wouldn’t have,” he said softly. “I know you wouldn’t
    have gone up there for the same reason you shoved me back into
    the bar when you first saw them. You take real good care of me,
    Brian. It was my turn to do something for you.”
    Brian made a little keening sound, and Tate met his gaze. “I
    just wish it wasn’t something so damned hard,” he murmured, and
    Tate’s smile had been all bitterness.
    “Hard’s relative,” he said, not wanting to talk about it. “You’ve
    got a year of physical therapy, I had to gut myself for a few days.
    Hush… this song’s really good… I want to hear it….”

    AND they had left it at that.
    And now, when Jed had left with a promise to be back the next
    night (Christmas Eve) with his family in tow to visit, Doc Sutherland
    had made them promise to keep him on speed dial, and Lyndie and
    Craig were finally getting a day or two in their own home, it was just
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    the two of them, as they’d started out, Talker and Brian against the
    world.
    Even Talker knew that was a lie.
    “Are they all really coming back tomorrow night?” Brian asked,
    a little bemused. It had been Lyndie’s idea, that everyone wanted to
    see Brian happy and safe, and wasn’t it Christmas Eve anyway?
    “Yup,” Talker told him, making sure the afghan Lyndie had
    made them while watching over Brian in the hospital was all tucked
    up around his waist. He was sitting up in their bed, propped up by
    pillows, his arm in a sling, and he looked like the morning of
    checking out of the hospital and getting half carried up the stairs
    really had taken it out of him. “Lyndie said she’d come in the
    morning and help clean up and shop.” Talker shuddered. He was
    pretty sure the only thing in the cupboards was cold cereal and milk.
    It’s what he’d been living on for three weeks, anyway.
    Brian’s smile was a little dreamy. “Do you think we could get
    chips? Man, I’m dying for something salty and bad for me!”
    Talker grinned at him. “If you want, I’ll go get some for you now,
    okay?” He would, too. They had bags in the drugstore downstairs
    and across the street.
    “Later.” Brian shook his head. He looked around their room in
    the sudden silence, and said, “Hey, what’s that thing Sunshine’s in?”
    Talker grimaced, feeling guilty. He hadn’t hardly taken the rat
    out in the past three weeks. She’d almost bitten him the first time
    he’d gone for her, so he’d tried to be better. She’d warmed up since,
    but still, the poor creature seemed to be feeling the effects of
    neglect. Brian would need to make up some time with her.
    “Craig made it,” is what he answered, though. “I guess it got
    cold in here that night you got hurt. It’s like a little hutch, to put the
    cage in, right? It’s got a little battery operated heater-light, so we
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    don’t have to keep the sunlamp on all the time, and we can mess
    with her days and nights, so she’s not always running the damned
    wheel at three in the morning, and sleeping when we want to hold
    her. It’s pretty cool!” Even if it was totally odd. All Talker knew was
    that he’d come home after Brian got out of surgery, and there it was.
    All ready and cool and… just odd.
    Brian raised his eyebrows. “Maybe he needed to work off some
    tension,” he said, and Talker shrugged. Lyndie’s boyfriend—big,
    quiet, paunchy—had been as much a wreck as Lyndie had been
    during those first horrible days. But he’d also been her rock, and
    Talker started to realize how much he and Brian really were part of
    a family. The