Damn that bastard, Cameron Adams! I let him do it to me again!

I gave him the benefit of a doubt.

He swore to me he was sorry.

I believed him, and now the sorry bastard has stabbed me in the back again.

All that shite with Heart Attack.  And Leonie tells me I can’t even sue for slander. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit!

Why do the fans have to believe people like him?

Hadn’t he already said he was proud of Daniel?  Hadn’t he already wished him the best?

Hell, ‘Spin’ had gone Platinum the beginning of the year.  Aneiki’s ‘Words’  had done the same.  They’d each sold about five million.

Split the Savage Garden fans between them?

And *their* song ‘I Knew I Loved You’ had gone into the Guinness Book of Records! Right next to their ARIA mention.

Damn that Adams!

Darren continued throwing clothes into his bags.  He had to go to Australia. *Had* to.  It had been three and a half years, since he’d last seen Daniel.

He’d be thirty this year, and Darren wanted to do something for Danny. Celebrate with him.

Ben had finally gotten back to him.  Cameron’s damn article had torn Danny to bits.  That’s why he hadn’t been returning e-mail’s. Or calls. Why he hadn’t even acknowledged Darren’s own thirtieth. 

Ben said he’d been drinking more.

A *lot* more.

Hell, Danny. How could you believe it of me?

Darren leaned back in the seat of the taxi, and closed his eyes; desperately trying to calm his mind. Ignoring the world around him as he concentrated on the vibrations of the vehicle taking him to San Francisco International.  Leonie had tried to argue against his going. Why did *he* have to be the one to give in?

How could he tell her he needed to see Daniel again. Needed to apologize. He’d never intended Daniel to be hurt by that song.

At the airport, he let one of the attendants usher him through check-in, and security to the VIP lounge.

Thank goodness Leonie had come to her senses when she booked his flight. He didn’t feel like being mobbed. Not today, anyway, he grimaced.

An hour later, he sat looking, without seeing or hearing, the steward going through the standard preflight spiel.

How many times had he heard it? Hundreds? At least. Promoting three albums – his own, most recently, had him on planes more than off.  Danny had come to hate them.  Ironic, wasn’t it? When they started out, they always talked like they were already famous.  But when the *reality* of *really* being famous had hit Daniel…

Poor Danny.

A slight jolt, as the Qantas Boeing 747 backed out of it’s parking ramp, interrupted Darren’s swirling thoughts. He took a deep breath, and concentrated on emptying his mind as the airplane taxied, turned, then rumbled to life with another jolt that hurled it down the runway.  Moments later Darren felt the plane angle, and dip slightly as it seemed to spring from the runway into the air.

Darren slept restlessly. He wanted to be wide awake when he reached Brisbane, but his mind kept going over their short career. Home town, small concerts… happy Danny.

Touring, small concerts… semi-happy Danny.

As long as Darren was beside him.

Touring, large concerts… unhappy Danny.

Finally the whirlpool of thoughts emptied, and Darren sighed as he settled into a sound sleep.

“Excuse me, sir.”   “Excuse me, sir.”

Darren’s sleep-dulled mind eventually realized that someone was trying to communicate with him. He inhaled, and stretched slightly before opening his eyes to look at the stewardess – Danyelle. His breath caught for a moment. “Yes?”

“We’re on final approach, sir; I need you to –”

“Place your seat in it’s upright locked position.” He echoed her words in time with her.

She nodded, and smiled.

And Darren returned her smile.

“I probably could have done it in my sleep, if you’d asked.”  He finished, as she moved on down the aisle.

He glanced out the window, and saw only ocean as the plane banked into a turn.  Moments later it leveled, and Darren licked his lips in nervous anticipation of seeing Daniel again.

Two hours to kill. Guess I’ll call Ben. Don’t want Daniel to know I’m coming until I can look him in the eye.  Darren sighed, and dialed the number.

“Darren?”

Thank God. I was afraid, with Caller ID, he might not answer…   “Hi, Ben. Um… How’s things?”

“Not too good, if you’re askin’ bout Danny.”

Darren’s breath caught in his throat.

“Oh god, what happened? Tell me he’s okay. Please, Ben.”

Darren waited. It seemed like an eternity. His blood pounded in his ears as his chest tightened. He plopped down into one of the hard plastic terminal seats as his vision darkened.

“He was in an accident, Dar.

He was drunk. Blacked out.”

“Oh, God.” Darren whispered as Ben continued.

“Went through a plate glass window.”

Darren closed his eyes and whimpered. His fingers ached as he clung to his cell phone.

“He was lucky, Dar. No life-threatening injuries.”

Darren ran his free hand over his eyes, pawing at the wetness.

“Quite a few cuts… He’s in Prince Charles Hospital for observation.”

“Can he have visitors?” Darren forced the whispered plea from his dry throat.

“Where you at now, Dar?”

“Sydney. Waiting for my connection.”

“I’ll pick you up. ’d like to talk to you.  Before you see him.”

“Before?… I… Sure, Ben. I’d appreciate it… Thanks.”

“Which flight, Darren?”

“Dar, which flight?”

“Uh… Qantas… 508…”

“’Kay. See you soon, Darren.”

Darren nodded, and blipped the phone off.  Then he put his face in his hands, and cried; not caring who saw him.

Darren had just cleared Customs when he heard someone calling.

“Darren!… Hey, Darren!… Dar?”

He turned toward the familiar voice.

“Hi, Ben…”

“Christ, Dar, you look like shit.” Ben voiced, then pushed Darren’s hand away to envelop him in a hug.

“Long time, no see, buddy.

Well, except for your

promotional tours. Not quite the same as in the flesh.”

Ben squeezed a little harder for a moment, then held Darren at arm’s length.

Darren tried to smile. Good old Ben. Looked a lot like he had at the end of the Affirmation tour, dark roots, spiky bleached ends. Maybe he really *was* happy to see him.

“Glad your record’s doin’ so well. Got another coming soon?”

“Maybe… You?”

“Playin’ gigs here and there.

How many bags you bring?”

“Just two others besides this one.”

Ben put his arm around Darren’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go to baggage.  Got my car out in the lot. Eaten yet?”

Darren shook his head silently, trying to broach the only subject that interested him.

“Well, after we get your things, we’ll do lunch. Then I’ll take you to Dan’s place.”

“But… I thought you said – ”

Ben nodded as they reached the carousel for Darren’s flight.  “I did. I’ll take you there later. He won’t be released until after five this evening. We’ll both bring him home. ‘Kay?”

Darren managed a ghost of a smile then, and nodded again. “Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks Ben.”

After they threw his bags in the back of Ben’s Subaru jeep, he drove Darren to a little restaurant with outdoor tables.  They took one away from the building, and crowds, near the jeep.

“Ready to order, mates?”

Darren looked at Ben. “Just a salad… and a coke.”

Ben studied Darren.

He didn’t eye the waitress. Hell, hadn’t even acknowledged her.  She was pretty enough, in a girl-next-door way. Long, wavy brown hair. Round face, hazel eyes, nice smile.

“I’ll have a Chef salad and a coke, too.”

“Be right back with your drinks.”

“Darren, why are you here?”

“Because I’m worried about Daniel.”

“Why? You said it all in that song, didn’t you? That song and that interview.  Do you have any idea at all how much you hurt Daniel?”

“I… I didn’t mean…”

“Christ, Darren. That’s all he’s listened to for the last eight fucking months!  He’s obsessed on it. That and drinking. Lee and Grant have been helping run Meridienmusik. Trying to keep it afloat until we can get him back to himself again.”

Ben quieted, nodding to the waitress as she brought their drinks. He waited until their food had been brought before he continued.

“I want to know what your intentions are, Darren.”  Ben watched the Diva with a look he hoped told Darren he was serious.

“I’m not going to let you see Daniel otherwise.”

He watched Darren’s blue eyes meet his. They were dull. Lackluster. But they began to shine as they filled with tears.

“I want to apologize, Ben. I want so much… I *need* for Danny to understand… I never meant to hurt him… never.”

Ben’s lips twitched as he considered Darren’s words.  The tone of his voice.  The way he sat hunched in the padded, iron form chair.

Finally Ben nodded, and smiled gently. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Darren. I’m even gladder that I believe you mean it. I need your help with something. I have a plan. Worked it out with Dan’s folks and a few of his friends. I’d like your help too. Before we bring Daniel home tonight.”

Ben saw the light return to Darren’s eyes, and he sat just a little straighter.  “I’d be glad to help, if it’s for Danny.”

The streets were congested with news vehicles when Ben and Darren arrived at the hospital.

Television and radio news vans crowded nose to tail, and police stood at the front entrance.

“Geezus.  Vultures.”  Ben growled.

Darren slid down in the seat. He didn’t think anyone would recognize him.  He hadn’t shaved since he’d left Frisco, his cheeks were red, his eyes still puffy from his last spate of crying; but he did *not* want to be recognized.

Ben drove around to the service entrance. They had cleared it with the hospital administrator when Daniel had been brought in two days ago, knowing there would be a media circus while he was hospitalized.

“I should prob’ly warn ya, Dar.”

Ben started as they entered the rear of the hospital. “Dan isn’t lookin’ so pretty right now. Lot’s of bruises an cuts an such.”

Darren nodded. He was more worried what Daniel’s parents would say, knowing that they were here, afraid they would hate him.

They walked in and took the lift to the second floor.  Darren hung back a little as he followed Ben.

Watched as Ben greeted Chris and John Jones, Lee, Karl and Grant.  His blood pounded in his ears as Chris turned toward him.

“Hello, Darren.”

Was she actually smiling? Darren allowed a tremulous smile to raise the corners of his lips, and nodded. “Mrs. Jones.” His voice cracked as he spoke.

She walked up to Darren, and looked deeply into his eyes. “Now Darren, when was the last time you called me Mrs. Jones?” And promptly kissed his cheek. Then she threw her arms around his neck, and he automatically wrapped her in his arms.

“I’m so glad you could come, Darren.”

She whispered into his ear, and he could feel her fear.

A few moments later they released each other. She took his hand and pulled him into the group.

“Darren’s agreed to help with our plan. He’ll stay with Dan for the next few days.”  Ben informed the others.

“Just like old times, hey Dar?”

Lee questioned.

Darren shrugged. “We’ll see. I have a lot I need to say to him.  A lot to get behind us.”

“Did Ben tell you – ” Karl glanced from Darren to Ben.

“I couldn’t, Karl. I tried. I warned him, but he’ll have to see it himself.” Ben looked at his shoes as he spoke, and Darren felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“What?” He pleaded with the others.

“His face, Darren. He got a bad gash on his face when he went through the glass.” Chris spoke calmly. “Sixty stitches. He’s still groggy, but we can take him home any time.”

“God.  Well, no sense standing around, hey?” Darren tried to sound cheerful. “Which room?”

Ben pointed. Room 212. Darren inhaled deeply, let it out in a long sigh, and pushed the door open.

God, he looks awful.  Bruises colored most of his face and arms.

Small cuts decorated Daniel’s arms over and around the bruises. His head was bandaged. His complexion had grayed. The white bed sheets made it worse. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a month, what Darren could see of it.

He stepped closer, studying the bruising on Daniel’s face. Seeing the cut on the right side of that beautiful face. Staring at all the stitches.

Darren slowly raised his right hand, and gently brushed Daniel’s left cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry, Danny.”

His whisper bubbled through his tears.

Daniel’s face turned into the touch, ever so slightly. He seemed to have trouble opening his eyes; and when the lids finally fluttered open, Darren saw only pain and sadness in the dull green eyes that looked at him.

“D-Da-Dazza?”

“Hi, Jonesy… Ben and I are going to take you home… If that’s okay with you?”

Daniel nodded drowsily. “’S…’kay.”

Darren helped him sit up, while Ben pulled a button up shirt over his arms; then pulled loose jeans up over his legs. He finished with a pair of Daniel’s sandals.

An orderly brought a wheelchair in then, and they steadied Daniel as he stood, turned, and dropped gracelessly into the chair.

In the hallway, Darren was handed a bottle of pain medicine, Oxycodone, by Daniel’s mom.

“Get plenty of rest when you get home, Daniel.”

“Will, Mum.” Daniel nodded loosely. 

“We’ll go out the front.

Draw the reporters while you get him out the back.” Daniel’s dad said.

“Good luck.” Grant nodded, echoed by Lee and Karl.