“I’m sorry.” Val finally forced out and weakly tried to struggle out of Trist’s sheltering grasp.

“For what?” Trist cupped water in his hand and used it to rinse the last of the soap from their bodies.

“You’ve had a horrible couple of days but you’re the one taking care of me. I should be taking care of you.”

Trist actually started to laugh. “You know, for such a smart man, you’re a fucking moron when it comes to dealing with people.”

“That’s not fair, I…”

Trist ran his hands across Val’s face. “All I mean is taking care of you, makes me feel better.” He studied the hidden face and the uncomfortable vulnerability Val wore. “I never get to be strong, you make me feel strong.” It was a feeling he needed right now.

“Trist,”

“God, I’m turning into a prune.” He couldn’t stand serious words now, too much and too little had been said. “Besides, I need to find a way to get you to call Wally and Gav’s parents so I don’t have to.”

Val turned the water off, it was going cold anyway, and couldn’t meet Trist’s eye. “I can call them.” He wasn’t easy with the idea of being gay but the idea of being near Trist was an easy one to accept. If he could stay focused on that, he’d be fine. He was thinking too much about pointless, trivial things and too little about important issues. That was a luxury he couldn’t afford, because no matter how Trist made him feel, he’d be blind not to see how frail the slender man looked.

 

For all the pleasant start to the day, it quickly spiraled downward. As the meds finished working their way out of Trist’s system, he grew anxious, moody and unstable. The lunch Val made, soothing soup and sandwiches, was barely in Trist’s stomach before he was lurching to the bathroom to vomit. The exhausted man sat on the sofa, pulling slightly at his hair and stared blankly at the tv while Val called the short list of family about Gavan and the long list of Trist’s clients that had to be canceled.

“No, no everything’s fine, Mr. Maddocks is just exhausted.” Val lied smoothly to another near panicked client. “Don’t worry, as soon as he’s rested everyone will be rescheduled.” That was the second concern of everyone he called, some people had waited weeks or months to be fit into the few hours Trist allowed for clients. “Certainly, I’ll pass your concern on to him. Thanks for understanding.” Val hung up and the last call had finally been made.

“How do you do it?” Trist asked but his eyes stayed on the television but too unfocused to really be watching it.

“Do what?” He moved to stand behind the sofa and gently pulled Trist’s hand away from the hair it was obsessively plucking at.

“Lie so easily.”

He’d never thought about it and the shock of being considered an easy liar stilled the hand he’d been soothing across Trist’s head. “I don’t…”

“Shut up, don’t lie to me, too!” Trist snapped and pulled his head away. “I know better. Comes from lying to yourself for a lifetime, you lie so smoothly, so easily, you don’t even see it. How long until you finally say you want to be with me only to have that be the lie?”

The sharp, paranoid anger didn’t surprise Val, it had been popping up all day but this was the first time it had been directed at him. “Not all of us have the courage or luxury of your honesty. I’m trying.”

Trist rubbed his hands roughly across his face and pulled hard at his hair. He growled a little in frustrated anger under his breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Val, I’m sorry. I’m trying it’s just, this isn’t easy.”

“I know.”

“This is why you should forget about me! All I’m going to do is hurt you. God! I’m such a horrible person, I shouldn’t be allowed around people.”

“Stop that, you’re just you, don’t be sorry for that. The hospital says they think Gavan will be off the ventilator tonight.”

“That’s good.”

“Very good, about two days sooner then they’d expected. Wally’s going to go sit with him tonight and his parents will be there tomorrow. They wanted to know if you’d like them to come stay with you too.”

“Not likely.”

“It was nice of them to offer.” Val reminded him.

Trist just rolled his eyes. “Sure.” His eyes darted behind Val and focused on the form standing there.

Val noticed the shift in the restless, uninterested eyes, and glanced behind him. Nothing was there, at least, nothing that Val could see. “What?”

Trist just shook his head. “It’s not fair.” He spoke to the hovering form. “To him and me, go the fuck away.”

“Trist?”

“Not you!” He snapped at Val. “Damn it, I can’t do this now, I can’t, I’m too scattered, it’s not fair to gang up on me when I’m half crazy already! No!”

“Trist?”

The odd black ringed eyes snapped to Val, shifted quickly to the spot behind him and the tension melted from his shoulders. “Val, I can’t refuse now, I’m too tired, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand.”

Trist unfolded himself from the sofa, taking the blanket he’d wrapped himself up in with him. “You will soon enough. Indulge me so they shut up and leave me be.”

“What?” Trist caught his wrist as he walked by and Val allowed himself to be tugged along behind. “Trist?”

“It helps to keep things a little separate, I don’t do this outside of my office.”

“Do what?”

Trist stopped and turned to glance at Val, the look on his face and in his eyes was sorrowful. “A reading of course.”

“No.” Val dug his heels in but couldn’t quite shake the hand from his wrist.

“Neither of us have a choice in this. Have some mercy on me, they’re not going to shut up until I do, they’ve been nagging me since I met you. Please, just let me purge this.”

It was the lack of profanity, the exhausted lack of anger, that made Val give in. It didn’t appear that Trist wanted this anymore then he did so he nodded and surrendered. The grip on his wrist was like a vise and short of actually prying the fingers away, Val had few choices left but to follow where he was lead.

The office was the only room in the apartment Val hadn’t seen. Trist kept the door tightly shut and it made sense to Val. In it’s own small way, it sealed away part of Trist’s life, locked the full nature of his gifts into a single compartment and kept what had to feel like chaos from spilling out into his day to day life. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, dramatic colors, blacks maybe with draped fabric and crystal balls, the reality was different.

Like the rest of the apartment, the office was finished in soothing, earth tones. Light olive greens and soft lavenders accented the shades of tan and brown, making the room feel soothing, welcoming. There were no mirrors, no draped lengths of fabric, no crystal balls, nothing at all like the image Val had in his mind. Instead, there was a simple, narrow table with understated, comfortable chairs pulled around it. Along the walls were short bookshelves but they didn’t hold ordinary books. It appeared more a collection of folders, notebooks and journals then literary works. Sitting on the bookcases were candles, bottles of scented oils, diffusers, and even with none lit, the room had a pleasant comforting scent. The only concession to the entire psychic image were a few small, but well crafted, drums in the corner and tossed in the opposite corner was a stack of large pillows and blankets.

“You looked surprised. What’d you expect? Chicken entrails?” Trist mocked as he moved to light candles.

Val just shrugged, unwilling to admit that chicken entrails wouldn’t have shocked him.

“Sit.” Trist ordered, waving to one of the chairs and taking one himself.

“What are we doing?”

He ignored the question and cracked his knuckles. The voices buzzed in expectant need in his head and they made him hurt. Normally, when he came in here, they knew to settle down but the background buzz only seemed louder this time. He drew a slow breath, feeling if fill down into his stomach, feeling the breath push back toward his spine, filling him. He let it out slowly, through his mouth, listening to the soft whooshing of it’s release.

Trist clapped his hands together three times in slow order and placed his hands flat down on the table between them. “We’re going to shut them up so I get some peace and quiet for now.”

“I’m…”

“I know, I know, you’re not sure you want to do this, tough shit. Look, I have little control over this. People come here hoping to speak to a specific person, I have no say over that. When the voices get too demanding, I need to get what they’re saying out or it drives me crazy. Normally, I’ve no idea who it is I’m supposed to tell something to so I just fucking right it down and worry about it later but you’re right here, there’re getting pushy.” He hated the cold fear in Val’s eyes, the distant, tense way the man was holding himself still.

“And if I just run out of the room and tell you to shove off?”

“Then they keep picking at me until I’m broken down. Feel free to leave.”

Val sighed and shook his head. “You know I won’t do that.”

“Yeah, told you I was a total bastard.” He drew a breath. “Okay, your uncle, he’s been pushing for days.”

“Wait.” Val’s heart froze, this seemed cruel. “You mean to tell me you’re able to talk to my dead uncle?”

Trist shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s the left over energy from the dead or the actual spirit themselves. I don’t know, I’m not a fucking priest. Sometimes I see them, sometimes I just hear them. You uncle, he’s done both, pushy fucker.”

“What’s he look like?”

“I hate these games.”

“Indulge me.”

Trist balanced a pissed off Val and the lack of hot sex against giving in. “He’s shorter then you, wore glasses and eventually bifocals, used to bitch and moan about them not lining up when he would read. He’s not heavy set, but not stick skinny, for all his wordy preaching bullshit about control he had a sweet tooth for maple candy. He used to wear those stupid jackets with the elbow pads and dress pants and sweaters with ties under them. Brown eyed, dark haired, frown lines and he doesn’t smile often. He smoked a pipe but only on Christ, like Sunday nights or something freakish like that.”

“Oh, God.” Val whispered out. “I don’t want to do this, Trist.”