#(hey all

Lucien nervously tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. Snow was falling in thicker flakes now, and traffic had slowed to a crawl to allow yet another emergency vehicle to pass by. The first one had been a fire truck—not uncommon around the holidays when alcohol was involved—but the second was an ambulance. An accident ahead, perhaps. Again, that wasn’t uncommon in conditions like these.

It shouldn’t have bothered him—he was a good driver, after all—but he couldn’t get Jurian’s phone call out of his mind. The sound of his pained cries. Koschei’s threats. Tamlin’s silence.

“Something is wrong?” Vassa asked softly.

Lucien shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “No, I’m sure it’s just someone who’s in too big of a hurry to get to their family Christmas party,” he tried to joke, but it was half-hearted at best.

“You are worried, though,” Vassa said. She wasn’t talking about the ambulance.

Lucien sighed, and turned to give her a brief, reassuring smile. “A little,” he admitted. “But that’s just because I’ve never done this before. Rescuing someone, I mean.”

“But you did,” she said kindly. “You did not know before now, but it is the same.” She reached out and patted his arm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it carefully before putting both hands back on the wheel. “But we’re not out of the woods yet. Uh, I mean—”

“I know,” she said gently. “It is the city, but I know.”

Lucien huffed a laugh, then shook his head as yet another ambulance rushed past, lights flashing and sirens wailing. “Oh, that’s not good,” he said regretfully. “And right before Christmas, too. Tsk.”

“There is another road we should take?” Vassa suggested.

“No, not really,” Lucien said, frowning as he checked the rearview mirror. “Everyone is just as eager as we are to get out of here. We might be a little late for the party, but I’m not going to risk an unfamiliar exit in this traffic. Not with this Koschei guy after us. We’ll be fine.”

Vassa was silent beside him as she pulled her coat collar tighter around her neck, despite the car’s warm interior. He didn’t blame her. But this nightmare would soon be over. In twenty-four hours, the worst would be behind them. He had to believe that.

Traffic continued to advance at a crawl as the lights from the previous emergency vehicles appeared in the distance, stationed in the middle of the street. It seemed that the accident had occurred on their route, and everyone wanted to take a look. Officers were directing traffic to merge into one lane to accommodate the ambulances and other emergency responders, and to protect the big black vehicle that had apparently slid off the road and straight into a utility pole.

“Shit,” Lucien whispered as they drifted closer. At least it wasn’t a collision, but multiple ambulances meant multiple passengers. He hoped no kids were involved—he sucked in a sharp breath and leaned over the steering wheel. Among the officers milling about, he thought he saw someone with long blond hair in a long gray overcoat…

Beside him, Vassa said, “Is that…?”

“Tam,” Lucien breathed, then jerked on the wheel and turned into the empty lane and parked.

“Wait here,” he told Vassa as he opened the car door.

“Hey,” an officer barked as he got out. “You can’t stop here—” he said, but Lucien was already in motion.

“I know him. I know him!” he cried, panicking as he rushed past the officer.

Snow and glass crunched beneath his shoes as he skirted around more first responders. They were either too surprised or too distracted to stop him. He blinked against the snow in his eyes, the icy tears, hoping against hope that the wrecked vehicle wasn’t Jurian’s, but knowing he was wrong.

“Tam? Tam!”

As if in slow motion, Tamlin turned to face him, looking dazed. “Lu?”

Lucien threw his arms around his boyfriend. “Oh thank god,” he whispered, holding him tightly. When Tamlin didn’t hug him back, he pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he said, looking him over.

“Um,” Tamlin blinked against the snowflakes melting on his eyelashes. It was more than the snow, though. He looked genuinely confused as he brought a gloved hand to his temple and slowly rubbed it.

Lucien’s heart turned over. “What happened?”

Tamlin looked behind him at the wrecked SUV. “We hit some ice, I—I think,” he said slowly. He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

An officer approached them before he could answer. “Is that your vehicle back there?” he asked Lucien sharply.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Yes, but—”

“But, nothing,” the cop said, jerking his thumb at the idling convertible. “Move it or lose it, pal.”

Lucien took a deep, measured breath. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked tightly, biting back a choice word or two that might have earned him a free tour of the inside of a police cruiser. He turned back to Tamlin, whose forehead was creased with either pain or worry, or both. “Are you okay?” he said more gently.

Tamlin nodded. “I think so,” he said, then hugged his arms and shivered.

Lucien’s heart broke at the sight. He wanted nothing more than to bundle Tamlin in a warm blanket in front of the fireplace at home, but that wasn’t an option. At least, not yet.

“I’m sorry about your party,” Tamlin said mournfully.

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Oh my god. That is the last thing you should be worried about right now.”

The officer cleared his throat.

Hurriedly, Lucien added, “My family will understand, okay? The important thing is that you’re safe.” When Tamlin nodded, he continued, “What about Jurian; is he okay?”

Tamlin hesitated a moment, then shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

Lucien’s chest seized up.

Before he could ask more questions, the officer intervened. “Look. You can ask all your questions down at the hospital, unless you want to make a stop at the police station first.”

At the same time, a paramedic approached Tamlin. “He’s asking for you.”

“Shit,” Lucien breathed, then covered his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry, Lu,” Tamlin said sadly. “I just… He needs me. I have to go.”

Lucien scrubbed at his face and managed to nod. “Okay,” he said tightly, and hugged himself instead of his boyfriend. He would have stolen a goodbye kiss if circumstances were different, but standing in front of a cop wasn’t the safest place to do so, let alone the most romantic.

Tamlin seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he hugged his own arm as he hesitated. “Hey, Lu?” he said. “When you see Vassa, tell her I’m sorry. We’re both really sorry.”

Lucien managed to smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said honestly. “You know that.”

“Yeah, well…” Tamlin didn’t seem convinced. “I just… Keep her safe, okay? I’ll explain everything later.”

Lucien suddenly realized that Tamlin didn’t know that he’d been listening in on Vassa’s call. “Wait, I—which hospital?” he called out as the paramedic led Tamlin away.

“New Prythian Medical,” the cop interrupted irritably, and jerked his thumb at Lucien’s convertible, still idling in the empty lane.

Tamlin had already turned away; he was too distracted to wave goodbye.

Lucien didn’t blame him, but it was still a lonely, depressing walk back to his waiting vehicle.

The first officer caught his eye as he waved yet another car into the over-crowded lane. “Hey, pal. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lucien groaned as he placed his hand on the roof of his car. “Look. I’m sorry. It’s just that I know the guy who crashed, and—”

“Not that. I meant your girlfriend.”

“What? I don’t have a…” Lucien bent down to peer inside the vehicle. It was empty. Shit. “Where did she go?”

The cop gestured back the way he’d come. “I don’t know. She went after you. Now—hey. Hey!”

But Lucien was already running.

***

It was like walking through a dream, or some kind of nightmare. There was snow in Tamlin’s eyes as he followed the first responder to the ambulance, his head empty except for the final moments before the crash. Koschei was bragging about what he’d done, about what he was going to do, then Jurian jerked on the wheel, causing the vehicle to spin out on the ice. For as skilled a driver as Jurian was, even he could not have predicted how badly things would go. Or had he?

In any case, it wasn’t his fault that Koschei was too proud to wear a seatbelt.

Koschei’s men had fled the scene before the cops showed up, leaving their boss unconscious in the front seat while Tamlin tended to Jurian until the paramedics took over.

If Tamlin had any injuries himself, he wasn’t aware of them. He had been in the back seat when they crashed, wearing his seatbelt just as Jurian told him to. Even without the warning, he would have buckled up anyway. They’d never crashed before, but riding with Jurian made you want to kiss the ground after.

But he couldn’t tell the cops any of that.

And then for Lucien to show up…

He startled at the sight of someone with red hair standing by Jurian’s stretcher.

“Vassa?”

As Tamlin came to stand next to the stretcher, Jurian glanced up at him with a bruised half-smile. “Oh, good. You see her, too,” he quipped, then coughed.

Looking like a vision in her white fur coat, Vassa appeared to be holding back tears as she gripped Jurian’s hand. “You are idiot,” she scolded.

“I know,” Jurian said hoarsely.

“Are you the girlfriend?” the paramedic asked her. “Did you want to ride along?”

“Da,” Vassa said.

“No,” Jurian said at the same time.

“No?” she asked him.

“Da?” he asked her.

The paramedic looked to Tamlin, confused into silence.

Tamlin shrugged and hugged his arms. “I guess she is.”

“Da,” she said firmly. “I am coming.” To Tamlin, she added, “You stay with Lucien, yes?”

“Um, I—okay,” Tamlin stammered, then looked to Jurian for confirmation. “Is that okay with you?”

“I’m about to have the best sleep of my life,” Jurian said with a tight smile. “So as long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Tamlin looked at the wrecked vehicle. “I’m okay,” he said honestly. Tomorrow he might not be, but for now, he was. “I’ll stay,” he told the paramedic, who nodded.

“All right, nice and easy,” the other paramedic told Jurian, as they prepared to slide the stretcher into the ambulance.

“See you on the other side, kid,” Jurian called out as he disappeared inside.

Tamlin barked a laugh. It hurt, but it helped, too. “Don’t say it like that,” he called back, then shook his head as he turned to look for Lucien.

As if summoned, his boyfriend appeared at the edge of the crowd, his look of panic turning to relief when he caught sight of them.

Tamlin sighed, suddenly weary. With his auburn hair and golden skin, Lucien looked like the warm hearth that was waiting for them at home. Home. He couldn’t wait to wake up in Lucien’s arms and put this nightmare behind them once and for all…

But the nightmare wasn’t over yet.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

Lucien jogging forward, calling out for Vassa.

Vassa pausing as she was being helped into the back of the ambulance.

One of Koschei’s thugs appearing behind her, his nose still broken and bleeding as he pulled something out of his coat.

Tamlin’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “Gun!” he cried, then sprang forward without thinking.

If he had stopped to think it through, he would have realized that a half dozen cops were a better match for one of Koschei’s goons, but he’d long given up on hoping for their help. All he could think about now was protecting the people he cared for most.

Jurian, who had been more like a father to him than his own dad. Vassa, who had continued to be kind to him despite her quarrel with Jurian. And Lucien, who had squeezed himself through the cracks of his stone heart and seen the darkest parts of him, yet loved him anyway.

He’d be damned if he lost any of them now. He didn’t stop to think about losing himself.

Something snapped when he hit the thug with his shoulder. His momentum knocked the man off balance, at least. His brother Arthur would have been proud.

But the thug struck back, hitting him with the butt of the gun or his fist, maybe both. Dull, fiery pain in his face blurred his vision, but somehow he managed to wrestle the man to the icy ground.

A single shot rang out—like a firecracker in his ear—and suddenly everyone was shouting and piling on top of him and the thug.

Moments—minutes—a lifetime—later, he rolled onto his back to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of a ringing in his ears as he laid there, huffing, tasting blood. Still, it was strangely peaceful, watching the golden streetlamp above his head as the snow drifted down in a lazy spiral. And suddenly Lucien was there, too. That was nice.

He felt himself smile as he whispered, “Hey.”

Then everything went dark.

* * *

They wouldn’t let Lucien ride with Tamlin to the hospital, not with his car still blocking traffic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They did give his car a police escort, though, to help him reach the hospital sooner. The only thing that kept him from driving off the road in a blind panic was the fact that Tamlin wasn’t fatally wounded. The ambulance was more of a precaution than anything; he was lucky to get one at all in these conditions.

Vassa and Jurian were safely tucked away in the first; it had shielded them from the would-be gunman before Tamlin took him down. Another had already taken away an older gentleman before Lucien arrived. He didn’t have to ask to know that it was Koschei. The gunman must have worked for him, and Lucien shuddered to think what might have happened to Vassa if Tamlin hadn’t intervened.

But his heart was numb as he remembered looking down at his boyfriend lying on the pavement, who smiled beatifically at him despite his gashed lip and bloody nose. Lucien almost lost it when Tamlin suddenly passed out, but at least he was alive.

Everything that happened after that was a blur.

The ambulance took Vassa and Jurian to the hospital after Lucien promised to keep them informed about Tamlin’s condition. Vassa was crying, but unharmed, and Jurian was sedated after he’d tried one too many times to get up, despite his broken leg.

Meanwhile the cops handcuffed the gunman and stuffed him in a squad car. After that, Lucien stopped paying attention.

He was too busy kneeling beside his boyfriend on the pavement and holding his hand as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

The medics checked Tamlin over and declared that his injuries appeared to be limited to his head and his face; the bullet had missed him and lodged itself in a nearby squad car. Lucien didn’t have it in him to be sorry for the cop, though.

Not when he wasn’t allowed to accompany his concussed boyfriend to the hospital.

Despite all this, Lucien somehow made it there in one piece.

Somehow, he made it to the front of the line at the crowded emergency room. And somehow, he managed to find the words to ask if his boyfriend had been checked in yet.

“Name?” the desk nurse said blandly.

“Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra,” he said automatically.

The nurse typed it in. “No one here by that name,” she said, then handed him a clipboard with paperwork attached. “Fill this out, then come talk to me.”

“But—”

“Next,” she called out, looking to the person waiting behind him.

He bit back a string of curses as he carried the clipboard to an empty corner. It took him a moment to realize what it was: a check-in chart.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and scrubbed at his face with his free hand. He was cold and tired and alone and scared, which was probably nothing compared to how Tamlin felt.

It was juvenile, but in that moment, he could only think of one person who could come and make it all better.

His mom.

* * *

Tamlin felt sick, and it wasn’t just because of his pounding headache.

He was strapped to a gurney in a small, curtained waiting room, hooked up to monitors while he waited for someone—anyone—to check on him. The ice pack they’d given him was little more than a bag of cold water now, but at least his nosebleed had stopped. His lip still felt like it was twice its size, though, and it hurt to move his right arm.

Worse, he didn’t know where Jurian was, how he was doing, or even if they’d been checked into the same hospital. Lucien might have been able to tell him, but for some reason his boyfriend hadn’t been allowed to ride in the ambulance with him. He was still fuzzy as to why, but Lucien had promised that he would be right behind him.

That was almost an hour ago.

Tamlin looked up at the ceiling as a hot tear slid down his cheek. He was almost thirty, for god’s sake; it seemed so juvenile to want someone to sit there with him and hold his hand… but he wanted it so badly it made his chest ache.

And that was on top of the throbbing pain in his jaw, his nose, his head, and his shoulder.

Admittedly, it had been pretty stupid of him to try to jump a gunman. The bullet could have hit any one of them, especially Lucien, who had been jogging up behind him. Tamlin didn’t know how he could live with himself if anything had happened to his perfectly wonderful, perfectly innocent boyfriend.

Jurian’s injuries were bad enough. At least Vassa was okay, but Koschei’s fate was still a mystery. Would he be going to jail? Would Jurian? If Koschei died, would they be held responsible? Or worse, was the other thug out there somewhere, waiting to take revenge on them for interfering with his plans?

Tamlin closed his eyes as another wave of nausea rolled over him. God. Why did hospitals have such terrible taste in paint colors, anyway? The sickly pea soup shade would turn a healthy man’s stomach, let alone a sick patient’s. It didn’t help matters that the footsteps outside the curtain made his heart race, or that the monitors’ shrill beeps set his teeth on edge, or that the smell of antiseptic floor cleaner was so strong that he could taste it…

Worst of all, everything around him reminded him of his mother, just before she died.

There had been roses in her room, at least. Red roses. They brightened up the drab green room and flooded the air with their perfume.

It had been springtime then, he remembered, with a big sunny window and an ornamental pear tree blossoming just outside where she could see it from her hospital bed in the cancer wing.

He could still see her lying in bed, facing the window with her eyes closed, but it didn’t stop her from noticing him standing in the doorway.

“Hey, baby,” she said in her sweet, musical voice, made softer by her chemo treatments.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice muffled by the hospital mask he had to wear. He would wait until he was closer to remove it, so that she couldn’t see his lips tremble when he looked at her.

She was thin these days, too thin, but it didn’t stop her from smiling as she gestured him closer.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he came to stand next to her bed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Classes were canceled,” he said quickly, stuffing the mask into his jacket pocket. “No school today.”

He could feel his ears turn pink at his lie, but she only smiled and reached for his hand.

“Lucky me,” she murmured, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

He squeezed back, but carefully. She bruised so easily now.

When he remained standing, she coaxed him to sit beside her. “I want to look at you,” she said. “It’s so rare that it’s just us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, unwilling to admit that he’d timed his visit this way on purpose. His dad was a shitty father, but he was a devoted husband, visiting her every morning before work and every evening after.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he balanced his violin case on his knees, suddenly anxious about what would happen if his dad found out…

But his worries melted away when his mom reached out to touch his loose curls.

“Your hair’s getting so long,” she said, stroking it away from his forehead. “But I like it.”

Tamlin shifted closer. “Dad says I have to cut it soon,” he said with a resigned sigh. “He says it’s disrespectful or something.”

She smiled softly but kept stroking. “He finally convinced me to cut your hair when you were three,” she mused. “He didn’t want anyone to think you were a girl, but I didn’t care. And you were such a darling, you didn’t either.”

Tamlin managed a smile and leaned into her touch. Of his three brothers, he looked the most like her. Even with the cancer treatments, her eyes were the same shade of amber-flecked green, but the soft pink scarf she wore hid her missing blonde tresses.

“You’re growing up so fast,” she whispered, touching his cheek. She gave him a tight smile as her eyes turned wet, as did his. “I swear you’re an inch taller every time I see you.”

He chuckled, even though it hurt. He was sixteen, but already twice her size. “Maybe classes will be canceled again tomorrow,” he suggested.

She breathed a laugh as she withdrew her hand. “Maybe,” she whispered as her hand fell to her chest.

His heart skipped a beat, and he sat up. “Can I get you something?” he asked worriedly.

She shook her head, still smiling. “No,” she said, then her gaze fell to the violin case on his lap. She gasped softly. “You brought your violin,” she crooned. “Are you going to play something for me?”

“Maybe—I don’t know,” he said nervously, running his thumb over the handle. “You seem kind of tired. We can just talk.”

“I’m not too tired to listen,” she offered. “What are you practicing? Or is it a surprise?”

Tamlin shrugged, embarrassed. “I don’t know. It’s kind of stupid.”

“Tam,” she said gently. “I can already tell it’s not stupid. What song is it?”

His face flushed, and he ducked his head as he ran his fingers over the worn, pebbled case. “‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’,” he mumbled.

“Oh, I love that song,” she cooed.

He shrugged again. “Pete says it’s kind of gay.” He blinked back sudden tears. “Arthur says it’s really gay, so…”

“So?” his mother said.

Tamlin tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “So maybe I shouldn’t play it.”

His mother considered this for a moment, then lifted her hand and offered it to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it.

As she softly ran her thumb over his knuckles, she said, “It doesn’t matter what they think, or even what I think. It matters what you think. Do you like the song?”

Despite the lump in his throat, Tamlin managed to nod. “Yeah.”

“Then you should play it,” she said firmly, but gently.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Even if it’s gay?”

“Even if you like boys, you mean?”

He blushed. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered. This wasn’t how he’d expected their conversation to go.

She let out a sigh, but it was a patient one. “If you like the song, and if you like boys instead of girls, or even if you like boys and girls the same, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It doesn’t change how much I love you, and you should know that that’s a lot.”

He bit his lip to stop its trembling. “So it’s okay that I don’t have a girlfriend?” he said quietly.

She nodded.

“Is it okay if I don’t want kids?”

She nodded again, but her smile was sad. “That’s your choice, sweetheart. I just don’t want you to be so afraid of losing someone that you don’t let yourself love anyone. Okay?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay,” she echoed, then gave his hand one more squeeze before taking her hand back to tuck it under the blankets. “Now tell me,” she said with a slight shiver. “How’s the song coming?”

He shrugged as he reached over to tuck her in. “It’s okay.”

“Just okay?” she teased gently.

He slowly smoothed out her blankets, then managed a smile. “It’s good,” he admitted finally. “Do you want to hear it?”

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she smiled wide, suddenly looking more like her old self than she had in a long time. “Of course. And look, I can even give you a rose for your performance,” she said, looking to the vase at her bedside. “Just like in the movies.”

He chuckled. “It’s not that good,” he joked, opening his violin case.

“We’ll see about that,” she teased, and gave him a kind wink.

As the first slow strains of Somewhere Over the Rainbow filled the room, she closed her eyes as she listened, smiling softly.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby…

He only messed up twice, but she didn’t seem to mind. She gave him a rose anyway, and a hug before he left.

“I love you, baby,” she whispered in his ear.

“I love you, too, Mom,” he said tightly, and kissed her goodbye.

The next time he played the song was at her funeral, and he didn’t make any mistakes at all, even though he couldn’t see the notes through his tears. She would have been so proud.

He left a rose on her headstone, too, because she would have liked that.