Remember my Heart - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Daiki no Mori, known to his friends as Dee, watched Gus from his usual spot across the dance floor. Even though being around Gus made his chest ache, he couldn't stop himself. Every Friday he could he was here, at Power Nightclub, feasting his eyes on the unequivocally changed face of his lover.

Angus McKenna no Sato had been one of the most promising young musicians in Martian history. His small band had quickly climbed to the top of the charts and had been poised to break-out across the other colonies as well. Now, Dee’s band was in the same position and the thought of it all coming crashing down was terrifying.

When Gus and his band had started to make money, the first thing Gus had bought was a tiny, single-seater “bike,” because, he said, he missed being able to drive. All Martian cars were fully automated, something most Martians took for granted, because without human error, the vehicles were infallible. Gus wanted a car where he was in charge instead of a computer. He made the tabloids buzz for months when he’d had his car modified so that he could drive it himself.

The night of the accident was etched in Dee’s memory. His suite contained several rooms that included a private entrance, conveniently allowing him to avoid his family. When the chimes sounded on his door, Dee had answered. He could still clearly picture the sly but sardonic grin on Gus’s face. How he’d gotten there without alerting every paparazzo in the city, Dee didn’t know, but he hadn’t asked, either. The excitement upon seeing his lover made everything else seem irrelevant.

They’d been laughing over the details of yet another spat between Gus’s drummer and guitarist when Dee’s father entered the suite unannounced. There’d been a mad scramble for clothes and explanations. There were a lot of angry words spoken and, somewhere in there, Dee had left his father and Gus alone. He could swear it had only been a minute, but when he’d returned, Gus was gone.

The night had started out magical, but ended horrifically when Gus had driven his bike outside Dream City’s dome and crashed. The cause was unclear. The bike was in good condition, and though he'd had alcohol in his system, he was still under the limits, and lacked fatigue indicating endorphins.

Dee had paid attention to all the media updates on Gus, learning more about bacta treatments than he really wanted to know. Gus had spent six standard months in a tank filled with bacta and there were some significant side effects, like memory loss. The six months leading up to the accident were gone like they’d never happened, including anything personal about another promising musician: Little D.

Living under the media’s microscope, it seemed inconceivable to Dee that they had been able to keep their relationship secret. At the time, it had felt like one big game, one which they were certainly paying for now. No one had known they were more than passing acquaintances, rivals even, in the music biz; and Dee had been shut out completely, refused even the possibility of visiting Gus at the hospital. All his information came from what had been released to the press. The closest he could now get were a few words exchanged over drinks.

Dee climbed up to a small viewing platform above the dance floor and leaned on the railing to watch Gus work. He'd once thought that Gus remembered him because of little things, like knowing his favorite drink without having to be told, but there was no accompanying twinkle of familiarity in his dark eyes. Eyes that were once so expressive were now empty and sad behind the protective glasses.

He could have accepted having to woo Gus all over again, but the man hadn't wanted anything to do with him. Not, Dee reasoned, that Gus ever went home with anyone else, either. He had that much, at least, though the knowledge didn't make him any happier. He’d been afraid at first that Gus would find someone new, but as time passed, he only seemed to withdraw further.

Dee recognized Jun Lee at the bar. It was stupid to be jealous of Jun, but Gus had not forgotten all of their acquaintance; Gus remained friends with his former classmate and drummer where he didn’t remember Dee. The smiles Jun received from Gus twisted Dee’s heart. To clear his head and wait for Jun to leave, Dee wandered outside for a smoke.

Real tobacco and caffeine were rare, expensive commodities on Mars. The colony’s growing space was reserved for more necessary crops, to feed the growing population, so Dee had to do with synthetic. Some claimed that the fake stuff was even better than the real. He pulled a small, silver case out of an inner pocket, noting that he had only a half-dozen sticks left. Six more and his last connection to Gus would be wholly consumed. He held the cigarette, but didn't light it. After a minute, he slid it back in the case, taking out his regular pack and lighting up. He would save the real stuff for his first intra-system tour.

Sighing, Dee leaned back against the building, ignoring the others out doing the same or dealing in the few substances prohibited by the club. He wanted to go on tour, it was something he'd worked his whole life for, but he didn't want to leave Gus. There was no telling when, or if, he'd ever be back. What little they had or might have wouldn’t survive the separation.

"Kuso," he swore bitterly, grinding out his cigarette butt on the pavement.

Perhaps it was fitting that just then his com unit buzzed.

“Your pardon, Dee-san,” his valet and personal assistant spoke without preamble, “but you wanted to know the minute I found anything?”

Dee scrubbed at his forehead to try and focus his attention. “And did you? Find anything?”

“Iye, Dee-san.”

“I could swear ….” Dee frowned and used the heel of his boot to grind his cigarette butt into dust. “He was altogether too annoyed over the debacle with my trust fund. There’s got to be something there!”

With the tour looming ever closer, Dee had sniffed around his trust fund and found the funds missing. Apparently, they’d been “reassigned” per his father’s orders. While they hadn’t gotten along in years, Dee hadn’t expected something so plebian from his father. He hadn’t stopped to think things through or investigate first -- how Gus would have scolded him! -- he’d immediately confronted his father, in public so he couldn’t avoid him, but it was Dee who’d made a scene when his father had denied the whole thing. Under demands to prove his outrageous claims, Dee had been forced to concede the argument because his proof had vanished; his trust fund was intact and back where it belonged and now Dee was being portrayed in the media as a selfish, spoiled brat making outrageous accusations. Why would his father steal from him and then cover it up? There had to be a purpose.

The familiar silhouette of Jun passed by into the ever-moving crowd, drawing Dee's eye. He smiled a little, bid his valet to keep looking, and went back inside, the bouncer giving him a friendly grin. Although he circled the club, Dee didn't see Gus and reluctantly concluded that he was gone. That was not normal; immediately, Dee started worrying.

He darted through the crowd, circling the dance floor and even looking around the dining area before leaving once more, still worried, but resigned. Outside the club, frustrated, he stared up at the dark night beyond the bright, city lights. Somewhere up there orbited the Martian Space Agency, a complex organization owned by his family, but operated by the government, always looming, as if to remind Dee of his clan obligations no matter what else might be going on.

A flash of white on dark blue hauled Dee's eyes through the crowd. He frowned, feet propelling him forward before the thought had fully cleared his brain. Gus looked terrible! His face was a sickening shade of gray and, even as Dee darted forward, Gus stumbled and almost fell.

"Whoa, there." Dee smiled and grabbed Gus's arm to steady him. Warm shivers raced across his palm, and then his whole body as Gus lurched into him. Dee got an arm wrapped around the slim shoulders just as Gus went completely limp.

"Gus?" He patted the pale cheek. "McKenna-san?" Looking around, Dee saw no one stopping. They must all assume the small, strange-looking man was merely intoxicated. He knelt in the street, Gus in his arms, panic rising in his chest. Looking up, he saw a few people glance down at him, possibly curious, but no one stopped or offered assistance or advice. That wouldn’t last, of course, because the press would be all over them the moment someone recognized them.

Knowing he had to do something, he wrapped Gus in his coat and stood, cradling him in his arms. The laughing, grinning Gus in his memory was not this frail, sickly thing that weighed far less than he should. Dee couldn’t reconcile the images and he stood in the street a moment longer before his legs made up their own mind.

He couldn't take Gus home, much as he wished. The only option remaining was to get Gus to his own home, but Dee didn't know where that was anymore. However, all clubs like Power had a back entrance and Dee had sneaked into a number of them over the years. Hugging Gus to him, Dee raced for the back and banged on the door. A scowling security guard swung the door wide, suspicion immediately switching to concern when he saw Dee's limp burden. He beckoned them inside, taking them straight to the manager’s office.

His wrist went to his mouth. "Mandi, this is Cheng. We have a situation." He gestured for Dee to lay Gus on the sofa, and then knelt beside him. With familiarity that brought a growl to Dee's throat, Cheng reached inside Gus's shirt to pull out a small pendant on a silver chain. Then he tilted Gus's head, feeling for his pulse.

"What happened?" cried Mandi, bursting into the room. "Gus!"

Dee held his ground as the older woman frowned at him. "He just passed out."

Her eyes skipped over Dee as if dismissing his words, giving her attention to her security man while Dee silently fumed. "Have you called an ambulance yet?"

"No," groaned Gus. His eyes fluttered open and he lifted a hand to his head. Dee swallowed down a lump of sick relief.

"Gus," scolded Mandi. She moved to his side, forcing Dee to back away. He shoved his hands in his pockets, itchy to tell everyone to back off. He shifted from foot to foot, watching Gus because he didn’t want to kill the nightclub manager with the jealousy-fueled laser beams coming out of his eyes.

“… You were very clear in your instructions, should something happen. Even against your wishes, you said!"

Gus squinted at her from behind his sunglasses, lips turning blue despite the coat he was practically swimming in. "I know," he moaned, "but I'm fine. Just took too much salicylate. Thin blood. My doctor will kill me. Please, Mandi just let me go home. I don't need to go to the hospital.”

Dee bit his lip.

Mandi frowned. "I don't know, Gus."

"Please, Mandi. I can’t afford it. If you call them, I’ll be there for days, and I need to work!"

"I can watch him for you," Dee blurted, blushing as three pairs of eyes turned on him. His heart pounded against his ribs as he silently willed the others to agree.

"Mori-san?" murmured Gus.

Dee’s heart lodged in his throat as he knelt down next to Gus. "Please let me take you home, McKenna-san." He clasped his hands together to keep from grabbing the object of his desires.

Gus frowned.

"I could go with you, if you prefer," offered the bouncer, leaning over Dee’s shoulder.

"I'll be fine," Gus tried to protest, but Mandi held him down with firm pressure against his chest.

"I think you should go to the hospital."

"Please," said Dee, turning the full power of his pale eyes on Mandi. "I'll take good care of him." His family name and connections combined with his youthful face could be quite compelling. Gus had shown him that, once. Besides, should anything happen to Gus, Power had many, many contacts amongst the paparazzi. That the press had a standing agreement to avoid the club distinguished Power from its competitors and was one of the reasons why Dee preferred the club to fancier places.

"I don't need taken care of!" Gus snapped, blood rushing to his face in embarrassed outrage. "I just passed out!"

Dee almost smiled. He knew that Gus hated to be seen as weak. Simply due to his height, most Martians looked down on him with the fondness they might reserve for a particularly intelligent or mature child, which had always raised Gus's hackles. If he truly felt as well as he claimed, Gus would already be off the couch and out the door, preferring action to debating the matter.

Mandi made her decision. "I would be honored if you would look after my friend, Mori-san," she said, bowing to the musician.

Hiding his delight behind formality, Dee bowed in acceptance and requested a taxi. He ignored Gus's protests and carried him back out when Cheng beckoned, following the big man down an alley to where the taxi waited. He passed Gus inside and climbed in after.

"Destination, please," said the car’s cool, mechanical voice.

Gus flopped against the side of the car, stating his address and scowling out the window. Dee held back a smile, not wanting Gus to get the wrong idea. To him, Dee was practically a stranger, not the friend and lover that Dee remembered. If he wanted more, to recover what they'd had, then Dee had to choose his words and actions very carefully.

The taxi stopped in front of a tall, plain building identical to every other habitation in the quadrant. Few people were on the dark streets and none who paid Dee and Gus any attention. Those that lived in the area knew better than to get involved.

The electronic mechanism on the doors had worn out long ago and someone had propped them open, so they moved on inside. There were two maglifts for the building and the one on the left had an out of order sign posted on the doors.

“Just take the stairs,” Gus growled.

Dee had to bite back a laugh. “You can barely stand and you want to climb stairs?” Slim as they were, the low Martian gravity meant Martians could lift burdens which, on Earth, would be impossible, but that didn’t mean that Dee wanted to carry his lover up countless flights of stairs.

“I can --“

“Whoa,” said Dee, grabbing Gus as he tried to walk away and almost fell flat on his face. Heedless of the insults, Dee hoisted Gus into his arms.

When the lift finally arrived, they rode up to the twenty-ninth floor. Resting as he was in Dee's arms, Gus didn't have to stretch to reach the palm pad. He pulled off a glove and ran his pendant under the scanner before scanning his palm-print to key the locks.

"Welcome home, Gus," said the home computer as the door slid open.

Dee didn’t have time to blink before a wave of heat rolled over him. Thoughts stuck on the malfunctioning environmental controls, Dee quickly stepped inside. Unfortunately, when the door closed, most of the light also disappeared. Dee banged his elbow on the doorjamb and almost tripped on a rug as he crossed the apartment. By the time they got to the bedroom, moisture plastered his shirt to his back.

Setting Gus on the bed, Dee used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his face. "Is it supposed to be so hot?"

Gus sighed in relief, pulling off his other glove. "Yes. It’s the only way for me to be comfortable.”

Dee helped Gus remove his jacket and when he didn’t object, worked on the rest of his clothes. Pulling off the shirt, Dee found and ran a finger along the seam of the suit to open the curious fabric. The high-tech suit split open from neck to waist, and down the leg under Gus's pants.

Gus didn’t protest when Dee undressed him, lying limply and rubbing his eyes under his shades, only fussing when Dee tried to take them. Without his memories, Gus had little reason to trust him, and he’d always been a private person. Maybe he was remembering? Or had remembered something? Maybe he was really sick. Or maybe the lethargy was due to his medicines. There was just so much about Gus that Dee didn’t know.

Dee drank in the sight of Gus's naked body, letting his fingers trail along the too-pale skin in a less than indifferent way, but Gus didn't notice, which was completely unlike him. He hated being stared at, hated being naked, and especially hated being naked and stared at. Removing the strange slippers of the suit and the shoes, Dee tossed everything into the cleaning bin, knowing that the clothes would be ready, fresh for wear, in a few minutes. He returned to Gus, easing him under the heavy blankets.

Gus arched away from the touch, moaning softly, "It hurts!"

"What does?" Dee inquired, alarmed. He couldn't see anything, but the darkness could hide much. "McKenna-san?" he asked, as Gus continued to groan, flinching and tucking his limbs close to his body. "Gus! What's wrong?"

"Everything!" he cried, voice breaking on the word, making him cough. "Oh God! Make it stop! Make it stop! Please! Make it stop."

Streaks of tears glistened in the dim light. Dee drew in a quick breath, more frightened than he wanted to admit. Gus's weeping moans were agonizing to hear. A quick rummage in the small, bedside table revealed some pain patches, the kind that would be absorbed through the skin, disappearing completely to let the wearer know when they could safely use another. Dee checked Gus over, wincing when he cried out, but needing to manipulate his body to check for previous medication. He found none, and slapped on one of the patches.

"Bathroom," Gus gasped, pushing at his glasses.

Dee threw back the blankets, lifting Gus back in his arms, his skin still chilled despite the heat. He moved as quickly as he dared into the small bathroom, and just in time, too. Gus emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the effort exhausting him. He leaned against the cold surface, shivering but lacking the strength to move.

Finding and moistening a small cloth, Dee wiped Gus's face. Thinking fast, he stepped into the shower, studying the controls. Water was expensive, so it made sense that Gus would have them disabled, but as he glanced at Gus, he heartily wished there was something more than sonic jets he could use to soothe away the hurt. Ice always made him feel better.

Sighing, Dee returned to the sink, wetting a handful of cloths to do what he could and pulling Gus to lean against him for warmth. Dee brushed aside strands of Gus’s hair to see his eyes. They were half closed, the pupils dilated, which must mean that the painkillers had kicked in. He smiled a little to see the dazed, unfocused look on Gus’s face. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

Picking him up, Dee set Gus down on the bed as gently as he could.

"Lights," called Dee. The dim house lights flicked off obediently. Dee took Gus’s glasses and set them on the side table, and then crawled under the blankets with Gus. The stifling ambient temperature already had Dee far warmer than was comfortable, but Gus’s skin felt icy. Pulling him close, Dee curled his body around the smaller man, surrounding him with his body heat and piling the blankets on top of them.

"Please, please let this be enough," he whispered, cradling Gus's head to his chest. "Gus, watashi no ai, how do you face this alone?"

His thoughts raced; how did this happen? What had happened that night after Gus left the Mori clan house? To Dee’s recollection, he’d only stepped out of the room for a minute. When he’d returned, Gus was gone. He wouldn’t answer the communicator and none of his friends knew where he he’d gone. Dee had heard about the accident in the morning newscasts and he’d raced immediately to the hospital, but only family were allowed in.

Dee had called in every favor he had, begged and cajoled and bluffed, but got nowhere. Just like that, Gus was out of his life. All he had left were some haunting songs and a few words over drinks on infrequent Friday nights. He wiped tears from his eyes and threw off the covers, pacing in the stifling hot room.

Gus belonged to the Sato clan and Dee to the Mori clan, descendants from the skilled craftsmen, engineers, and specialists who had come from Earth to prepare chosen sites for settlement. Those founding families became the foundation of Mars' governing system, a pseudo-royalty and upper class. Two hundred years later many of those families no longer existed. The Sato clan was tiny and faltering more and more every year; the Mori clan was dozens strong and their businesses continued to grow.

Dee’s father, Takehiro no Mori, had not risen to CEO of the family’s construction business without a struggle. He protected and guarded his family, to a point. Once mandatory schooling ended, they were on their own. Dee’s brother and sisters had proven themselves in the company, and risen to prominent positions. Dee had chosen to pursue a future in music.

He and Gus had been alike in that respect, except Gus’s family had helped and supported him; Dee’s father thought it was a waste of time. Gus had been born and raised for most of his life on Earth; Dee had never been off the planet. As soon as Gus started to sing, everyone fell in love with him; no one but Gus had wanted to listen to Dee. Why was it, he wondered, that as Gus’s life and career plummeted, Dee’s rose?

“It’s just not fair,” he whispered.