Carter's Shadow - 27. Chapter 27

"He was lucky," the doctor said, adjusting his glasses as he stood in the small waiting room talking quietly with West's parents. "He has a fractured rib, and lost a lot of blood, but he's going to be all right."

West's mother clung to her husband tightly, burying her face into his broad chest. She let out a loud sob of relief, as Jonathon Harding stroked her hair reassuringly, looking up at the doctor, "Thank you, Doctor."

"No," the doctor shook his head, "you have a tough kid there; from the defensive bruising on his shins and forearms he put up quite a fight, and the only reason he collapsed was from a deep cut on his forehead. We stitched that up, now it's just a matter of time until he wakes up."

"Thank you again, Doctor," West's father nodded firmly. "Can we see him?"

The doctor nodded and gestured across to the room; Mister and Mrs Harding thanked him again before they disappeared to see their son. Which left Andrew Highmore sitting forgotten in a quiet corner of the waiting room staring blankly at the door.

His mind was working on all the things that could have been. If things had gone differently for him, when he had come out, he could have been the one to lie in a hospital bed, or Will...or Peter...

He slowly pushed his hair back away from his eyes as he thought through his own struggle to come to grips with who he was. The strength of character it took to stand up to a bigoted society that still saw love as a taboo, and shunned those that chose to express it no matter the form.

He'd given his statement to the police officers who were waiting in the hall for West to regain consciousness and identify the people who had attacked him. A broad-shouldered and sympathetic female sergeant who had assessed the situation had promised to do all she could.

Now Andrew sat quietly, his part in the drama was over; he was really there now out of some sense of duty, not quite ready to face the greater world knowing some of the cruelty that lay there. He'd dealt with this kind of situation several times through university working with the Pride Centre trying to promote awareness. But it wasn't the universities where the awareness was needed. High schools, where bigotry lurked in every shadow, were the places that so desperately needed it. Try getting that past a conservative-liberal government.

He stood up rubbing his tired eyes; he should call the school, let them know that West was all right. But all he wanted to do was call Will; somehow he needed some reassurance of his own right then that he would be all right..

He found the payphone and dialled Will's cell, surprisingly connecting through instead of being shunted to voicemail.

"Hello?" Will's calm voice filled Andrew with warmth.

"Hey," Andrew said slowly, "look, something's come up." He glanced around him at the hospital ward, "I..."

"You're calling from the hospital?" Will sounded instantly concerned.

"I'm all right," Andrew reassured. "It was one of my students... I...."

"Are you okay?" Will asked, driving straight to the point in that typical way of his.

"I'll be okay, just..." he scrubbed a hand down his face as he leaned against the wall of the phone booth, "I needed to hear your voice."

There was a pause on the line, and the sound of papers being moved, "Which hospital?"

"Queensway-Carleton," Andrew said, checking on the sign above his head.

"Right, I'll see you in twenty minutes..."

"You don't..." Andrew began.

"Yeah, I do," Will said firmly. "Twenty minutes." And he hung up.

* * *

Andrew was standing in the waiting room, hands in his pockets, looking outwardly calm. But Will knew Andrew well enough to know when the man he was in love with was upset. It was in those deep sapphire eyes, the reflection of the anguish in his soul as he turned to look at Will.

Will didn't hesitate; he had his arms around Andrew just holding him tightly. The light scent of leather and cologne tickled his senses--that smell that was distinctly Andrew. He just held on for a moment, remembering what it was like to be held tightly in those arms and reassured through his own darkest moments. Now it was his chance to repay some of that loving support with his own.

The pressures of work were forgotten; there was only one thing that was important to him at that moment--the tall, athletic man burying his head into his neck and squeezing him for all he was worth. They shared a strength that came from being in love for so long that it was no longer two people, but one.

Will drew back a little and stared up into Andrew's eyes, smiling at the thought that even after so long it still bothered him that Andrew was taller than he was. Silly, in the face of everything, but some days he just wanted to wrap Andrew in his arms and give him the feeling of being safe that Andrew always seemed to give to Will.

"Thanks," Andrew managed after a few minutes. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

Will nodded. "That's why I'm here," he said quietly, "you needed me." He drew back, unwilling to break the physical contact that seemed to sustain both of them, holding onto Andrew's waist lightly as he looked down at the bloody handprint on the front of Andrew's white cotton shirt where West had grabbed onto him. "What happened?" he asked again, looking up at Andrew's eyes.

"It's West," Andrew said, staring across the hall towards the closed hospital room door where they had put West.

Will frowned, and turned his head to look at the pale green door with its small safety glass window. His hand reflexively tightened around Andrew's waist. "Oh god," he murmured. "W-what happened?"

Andrew's face changed, and Will for the first time realized the man that Andrew had become. The weight of the world reflected in those eyes, pressing down on the soul. He looked tired, for the first time, so very weary.

Will guided Andrew into a seat, still holding onto his hand , cupping it with his other one as Andrew leaned forward. "I don't know," Andrew said slowly. "I was on my way to the gym, and I heard something in the shop hallway. It's supposed to be empty in the mornings, so I thought it was strange, and went to take a look..." He shook his head at the memory of what he had seen, "There were five of them; poor kid didn't stand a chance..."

Will stood. "Do you need a coffee?" he asked, walking over to the vending machine and fishing through his suit trousers drawing out some change.

"No," Andrew shook his head, watching as Will indulged in one of his bad habits. It was something he always did when he was upset and trying not to let anyone know. He paced the floor to and fro, waiting for the machine to dispense the vile liquid it tried to pass off as coffee.

"Makes you realize how lucky we were," Will said walking back across the floor, holding the paper cup and blowing on it to cool the superheated liquid. "That god-damned school... I swear to fucking god...!"

"It's not the school," Andrew said leaning back into his chair to watch his boyfriend pace the waiting room. "They teach what tolerance they can, but it's always with one hand tied behind their back. And let's face it, teachers can't be everywhere."

"No," Will agreed, gesturing with his cup, "but still..." He seethed, "Remember Todd Gadreau?"

"Yeah?" Andrew asked looking up. "You slugged him if I remember."

"Yeah," Will nodded. "He had me cornered down by the Chem labs, him and a couple of his buddies." Will's face darkened, his hand tightening reflexively around the cup in his hand.

Andrew frowned, "What? I thought it was just you and him."

"It was," Will replied. "It'd just come out that you and I were..." Will smiled, "and they were looking for a little payback."

"Yeah," Andrew said, "he'd tried with me just before that..."

"I remember," Will said turning back for another length of the waiting room. "But Gadreau and his boys thought if they couldn't get you, they'd come after me. It was Brody that ensured it was an even fight..."

"An even fight?" Andrew said, looking up from where he was resting his elbows on his knees. "Todd Gadreau was easily twice your size and muscle mass."

"He had a glass jaw." Will stopped his pacing, "But the point is, you're right, we were lucky."

Andrew closed his eyes and let his chin fall a little, "Why does it have to be about luck? Why the hell can't it just be that we stood up to them?"

"One on one, sure," Will agreed. "But five on one? Why does it take five big guys to beat up on one gay guy? Are we that scary that they need that many?"

"I don't know," Andrew admitted. "You know, I thought after we graduated that would be it; you know, out in the real world it's all over now, now we can just be who we want to be. Maybe, you know, we'd done something to change peoples' perspectives on the world."

"Make a difference?" Will asked, looking across at the room again.

"Yeah," Andrew said slowly. "If we've come so far, why do I feel like we're right back at square one?"

Will glanced at his boyfriend, coming a step or two forward and kneeling down in front of Andrew, his hands resting on Andrew's knees as he looked up into those sad eyes, "You made a difference--me." He shook his head, "God knows where I'd be right now if it wasn't for you--can you imagine it?"

Andrew glanced up, "You'd probably be married..."

"Oh god," Will screwed up his nose. "Can you just imagine me as the responsible husband? Sprogs clinging to my leg..."

"Yeah, you and that girl...what was her name, the one that had a thing for you in high school?"

"Jenny, I think," Will said, looking distant shaking his head. "Now that would be a nightmare, I'd be stuck in suburban hell..."

"With pastels," Andrew joked lightly, "and a white picket fence..."

"And a Volvo..."

"No, a minivan..."

"K, now we've delved headlong into my Wal-Mart nightmares," Will said, shaking his head to shift the image of him miserably living a lie. "If it wasn't for you, god knows where I'd be right now. So you made a difference, where it counts."

"You know," Andrew said, holding onto Will's hands, "this is the reason I want to practice law--you know, fight this kind of thing."

"Oh my boyfriend's a cliché," Will murmured teasingly. "Legal beagle championing truth, justice and the Canadian way..."

"Shut up, Carter," Andrew pushed Will lightly. "You can be a real bastard when you want to be."

"Runs in my family," Will shrugged lightly. "You met my father, right?"

"I remember," Andrew said nodding. "Hey, thanks for being here."

Will smiled, "You needed me, and I was having a lousy day at work. It was an excuse to get away."

"Can you spare the time off?" Andrew asked in concern.

"They switched me to salary," Will said, "so technically I'm still getting paid even though I'm not there."

"That's good, then," Andrew said looking back down at the tiled floor.

"Yeah," Will said. It wasn't the time to worry Andrew with that. Right now Andrew just needed to feel better, and he needed Will's strength for a change. Will tipped the cup of brown water the machine had tried to call coffee into the bin, "Now that... that was bad coffee."

"Sorry," Andrew said, "I'll make some when we get home."

Will winced inwardly; Andrew's coffee was as bad, if not worse than the machines, "Don't worry about it..."

They both looked up as the two police officers came back, in their dark uniforms, bulletproof vests and their guns. The female sergeant knocked on the door to West's room, as her partner turned to look over at where Will and Andrew were waiting, offering them both a nod as they were both shown in.

"I should get you one of those uniforms," Will mused idly.

Andrew pushed his boyfriend lightly, smiling and shaking his head. "You would find a way to make me smile..." he said softly.

"All part of the service." Will folded his arms, "I juggle too."

"I didn't know..." Andrew began.

"...Oh yeah, I juggle work, a love life and doing the dishes!" Will smiled, he bent down again in front of Andrew, and touched his knees, "Hey, if West's half the survivor you are, he's going to be okay."

Andrew nodded, "He's a tough kid, the doctor says he put up quite a struggle."

"Good," Will said. "My dad always used to say, never make it easy, make sure every punch costs them and they'll think twice about hitting you again."

"We don't teach that in the Canadian school system," Andrew replied.

"Yeah, well they should," Will said firmly.

"You're really too violent for your own good sometimes," Andrew said.

"No, I was taught not to start fights, but finish them," Will shrugged.

"Slugger," Andrew teased.

"Hey, just 'cause I'm not a tree-hugging pacifist..." Will said defensively.

"Well, the suit and tie really don't do your street cred any justice," Andrew commented, lifting Will's red tie that was hanging loose and bapping Will's nose with it. "And let's face it, you're not exactly what I'd call the street fighting type... not to mention the fact you can't skate for shit."

"Whose fault is that?" Will demanded, raising an eyebrow at Andrew. "If I recall you tried to teach me."

"Yeah," Andrew smiled, "you don't have the co-ordination for it." He looked over at the door again, "Make me a promise--don't get into a fight you can't win."

"Hey," Will said, "I don't bend over and take it from anyone...."

Andrew smirked.

"Well," Will flushed red, "that's not what I meant."

Andrew's smirk deepened.

"Great," Will rolled his eyes.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Andrew asked, staring at the door again.

Will turned slightly, "Cuts and bruises heal fast." Will looked distant, remembering, "It's not those you have to worry about, it's the stuff on the inside..."

Andrew reached out a hand to rub Will's shoulder, knowing Will was speaking from his own experiences with his father. They'd discussed it many times over the years, and Andrew knew how much pain Will still held over it.

"But," Will said turning, "if, as you said, he put up a fight right to the end, he's not about to give up now." Will locked his eyes onto Andrew's and nodded firmly, "No, guys like that aren't about to let them beat him now." He felt Andrew's hand tighten on his shoulder, and he nodded.

"Thanks, Will," Andrew repeated.

"Hey," Will shrugged, "he'll be all right, you'll see. Though I'm a bit worried about Sprog."

"Peter takes after you," Andrew pointed out.

"No," Will shook his head, "he's a bit more... delicate than I was at his age."

"Because you shelter him," Andrew chuckled. "You're like a fussy mother hen..."

"Hey!" Will laughed at Andrew. "Just because I look out for my sprog, doesn't make me a..." He sighed and settled back onto his ankles, crossing his arms on Andrew's lap and setting his chin on them, "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I know," Andrew said, his hands brushing Will's scruffy brown hair away from his hazel eyes. "Right from day one, I knew."

"Liar," Will grinned. "You were shit scared to ask me out."

"'Cause I thought you were going to say no," Andrew replied.

"I did say no," Will pointed out, "and if I recall that didn't stop you."

"You said no, but your kiss said yes," Andrew nodded.

Across from them the room door opened, and the two police officers shook hands with Mister Harding, both walking back towards the elevator. The senior Mister Harding stopped a moment to look over at where Will and Andrew were sitting looking back at him. And he spared both of them a thankful smile, before he returned to the room.