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Chapter Twenty-Seven

OCTOBER 2095

Josiah

They sat down to eat the casserole Alexander had prepared. It was delicious, but Josiah wasn’t going to tell him that, so he just ate it, in stony silence. Alexander sat opposite him at the kitchen table, chewing slowly, his eyes cast down.

Josiah was too angry to be civil to Alexander right now. He felt violated at the thought of the IS looking through those boxes and seeing into the private, sacred part of his life. His memories of Peter were his and his alone.

In the years since Peter’s death, he hadn’t been able to throw out any part of their life together. At first, he’d kept all Peter’s belongings exactly where they were. It had taken him three years to force himself to move his clothes into the spare room. Until now, he’d never had houseguests.

He should have anticipated that the IS, left alone in the house with too much time on his hands, would start poking around. He’d been so wrapped up in the case that he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

“That’s not the only reason you haven’t been thinking clearly,” he heard Peter say wryly. “And I can understand why – he’s very attractive.”

Peter had never been the jealous type – he would have been amused by Josiah’s unwilling fascination with Alexander Lytton. Then again, Peter had always known that he was as loyal as the day was long – he’d never so much as looked at another man while Peter was alive.

“And for all these years after my death as well ,” Peter murmured. “ You know, I’d never have asked you to be a monk for me, Joe.”

“Shut up,” he growled.

Alexander looked up, startled. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m going to bed.” He pushed his plate away and stood up.

“Of course.” Alexander stood, too, his head bowed. “I’ll clear away and tidy up, sir.”

He didn’t like Alexander cleaning up after him, but that wasn’t a conversation he felt like having right now. He was bone tired, exhausted by all the activity of the past few days combined with two sleepless nights. He couldn’t handle Alexander or the complexities of his own confused emotions.

Heading upstairs to his bedroom, he took off his suit jacket and hung it up neatly in his wardrobe, and then swiped off his tie. Removing his muddy shoes, he left them outside the bedroom door to remind himself to polish them in the morning. He was about to take off his socks when a noise outside stopped him in his tracks.

Creak, creak, creak… It was the sound of the ancient swing in the back garden. Peter often used to sneak out to sit on it while puffing on an illicit cigarette. Creak, creak, creak…

Josiah was frozen to the spot, his tired mind playing tricks on him. Maybe if he went over to the window and looked out, he’d see Peter’s familiar round shoulders and the glowing light of his cigarette. His husband would look up at him and grin. He’d had a habit of hiding the cigarette in the palm of his hand and waving his other hand to disperse the smoke as if that would convince a disapproving Josiah that he wasn’t actually smoking.

It felt so real, as if it could actually happen. He tiptoed across the bedroom to the window and paused, with his hand on the curtain switch. If only the past seven years had been a dream, and Peter was down below, waiting for him…

He flicked the switch, and the curtains opened, slowly. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a lonely figure sitting on the swing below, moving back and forth. Creak, creak, creak…

Of course it wasn’t Peter. It was Alexander. He wasn’t smoking – he was leaning to one side, his head bowed, looking somehow completely different.

Josiah gazed down at him for a long time, wondering what was so changed about him, and then he realised: the indie didn’t know he was being watched, and this was a rare glimpse of him in a private moment. If this was the true Alexander, then Josiah’s heart ached for him. He looked heartbreakingly sad.

Despite his tiredness, he couldn’t leave him down there, looking like that – he’d never be able to sleep. Swallowing his anger, he pulled on the new slippers Alexander had bought for him and padded downstairs to find the kitchen door still open.

Alexander didn’t notice him; he was still lost in thought as he swung back and forth on the swing, looking old, weary, and lost, and somehow also impossibly young at the same time.

“There is an outside light,” Josiah called out softly, switching it on.

Alexander looked up, startled. “I came to say I’m sorry,” Josiah said, leaning against the doorframe. He braced himself for Alexander’s mask to return and cover his features, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he gave a tired wave of his hand.

“That’s okay. I’m sorry, too. We were both pretty heated earlier.”

Josiah stepped out into the garden. “It was my fault. You were trying to do something nice, and I overreacted. I apologise. I’m not used to having someone in my space.”

“I can understand that. This is a lot for you to get used to.”

“And you.”

Alexander shrugged. “I’ve been passed around before. It’s not so different for me.”

“I’m sorry for that, too. I know you committed a crime, but I wouldn’t wish the punishment you’ve endured on anyone.”

Alexander looked down, swallowing hard. Josiah wasn’t sure if he should go or stay. Then Alexander glanced up again, looking so dejected that Josiah had to resist an impulse to go and wrap his arms around him .

“Is it true about Charles?” Alexander asked brokenly. “He really didn’t even try to buy me?”

“No, he didn’t.” There was no point sugar-coating it.

Alexander gave a little smile that never reached his eyes. “I do understand. He wanted to walk again – who can blame him?” Alexander looked directly at him, his vulnerability laid bare. “How was he?” he whispered. “Is he okay?”

Josiah wondered what it must be like to be parted from someone you loved for so long, not because of death, or distance, but because you were no longer free to make contact.

He remembered how transfixed Alexander had been by that news report earlier – how he’d drunk in the sight of his brother on the screen, and how angry he’d been when the reporters had cornered Charles against his duck. Whatever else might be true of this man, he loved his brother dearly.

“He looked fine to me, but then I think he’s someone who isn’t affected by much,” he replied.

Alexander looked at him sharply. “You didn’t like him, did you?”

Josiah thought of Charles’s easy-going manner and bright, sweet smile. “No. I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother, but honestly – I thought he was weak and stupid.”

Alexander gave a surprised bark of laughter. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like Charles.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Do you like anyone, though?” Alexander’s eyes gleamed cheekily.

“Yes, actually I do,” Josiah retorted.

“Who, then?”

“None of your damn business.”

“You like your boss, Esther, and you like your data tech, Reed. That seems to be it among the people you work with.”

“I like our forensics tech, Mel Hamilton – and I don’t dislike Doctor Baumann.”

“Really?” Alexander sat up straight, pondering that. “Because you give every impression of hating her.”

“That’s where people read me wrong. ”

“Do you like me?” Alexander peeped up at him from surprisingly shy eyes.

“You puzzle me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How can I know if I like you when I don’t know who you are?” he said helplessly. “You might be a murderer, or a victim, or something in between, but whatever you are, you’re not letting me or anyone else get close enough to see.”

Alexander gazed at him steadily, giving nothing away.

“Elliot didn’t have a clue, did he?” Josiah said, shaking his head. “You played at being his empty-headed IS, passing around the croc at his parties and posing sexily for his holopics. He didn’t know the real you at all, did he?”

Alexander shrugged. “Elliot wanted something specific, so that’s what I gave him. He didn’t need to know the real me – that would have destroyed the fantasy.”

“Must have been hard – pretending to be someone you’re not for so long.”

Alexander shrugged again. “You’re wrong about Charles,” he blurted suddenly. “He’s always been a wonderful brother. When I was expelled from various schools, he was there for me, and when I told him I like shagging boys as well as girls, he was supportive.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t he be? It didn’t reflect badly on him, and it cost him nothing.”

Alexander gazed at him blankly, as if that thought had never occurred to him. “Still, he was kind. Charles is always kind.”

“Of course he’s kind – he wants everyone to love him.”

“Most people think he’s a hero,” Alexander snapped, still staunchly defending his brother.

“Well, I’m not blinded by the legend of the great Olympic and Paralympic hero,” Josiah retorted.

Alexander blinked, looking completely startled.

“What?” Josiah demanded.

“Nothing. Just… I think I really needed to hear from someone who doesn’t believe the sun shines out of Charles’s arse, after finding out he di dn’t save up the money to buy me. I love him, but yeah, that hurt. So, if that’s your impression of Charles – what did you think of my father?”

“I liked him. He lost his temper with me at one point, but there was something honest about him.”

“How was he?” It was almost a whisper.

“Not well,” he replied frankly. “He’s had a couple of strokes, and he’s frail.”

“My fault, I fear.”

Josiah had no reply for that.

“Why do you have a swing in your garden?” Alexander asked unexpectedly. “Do you have children?”

“No. The swing is old – it belonged to Peter when he was a child.”

Alexander went very still. “Peter – your husband?”

“Yes. This was his house. We lived here after we left the army.”

“And the dog in the photograph?”

“Hattie. Peter’s dog… then mine. She was the best dog in the world.”

“Ah – Hattie – the password you gave me.” Alexander smiled. “You know, if you got another dog you might be less lonely.”

“That’s ironic coming from you, because I’ve never seen anyone look lonelier than you do right now.”

Alexander swallowed hard, and Josiah wished he hadn’t said that.

“Hattie was a one-off. I can’t imagine ever loving a dog as much as I loved her, so it wouldn’t be fair to have another one.”

“Dogs, husbands… I’m thinking this is a theme for you,” Alexander mused.

Josiah grunted.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night – that the thought of sleeping with me disgusts you,” Alexander said unexpectedly.

Josiah winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant the idea of taking advantage of an IS disgusts me – not you. You’re an IS, and I’m your houder; I don’t see how consent is possible in those circumstances. That might not have bothered your previous houders, but it bothers me.”

Alexander chuckled. “You really are very sweet sometimes, but supposing I genuinely wanted to? You’re denying me my own agency, because you’re the houder and have all the power. How is that right, either?”

Josiah rocked back on his heels. “Good point. But how would I know if you genuinely wanted me, or if you were just trying to please me?”

“Why couldn’t it be both?” Alexander challenged.

“I don’t want you to try and please me just because I’m your houder and have power over you.”

Alexander shot him a thoughtful look. “You’re not like any houder I’ve had before.”

“That’s a good thing, I hope.”

“Yes – a very good thing – and it makes you all the more attractive.” Alexander tilted his head in a way that was both defiant and yet strangely vulnerable at the same time.

“Attraction is one thing, but I’ve found that sex is much better when you’re in love.”

Alexander shrugged. “I’ve never been in love, so I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s so sad,” Josiah said, with a little shake of his head. “How come?”

Alexander mused on that for a moment, and then he looked up, straight at Josiah, with an expression of raw honesty in his eyes. This, finally, was the real Alexander – he was sure of that.

“I suppose, for a long time, I thought I didn’t deserve it,” the indie said quietly.

“Because of what happened to your mum?”

“Yes.” Alexander swallowed hard, but he didn’t take refuge behind his mask. Josiah watched him closely, fascinated by this tantalising glimpse of a man he’d found maddeningly opaque up until this point.

“Then, after I was sold as an IS, I made a friend for the first time in my life. Ironic, isn’t it? I had to lose everything to find a true friend.” He gave a wry smile. “She was kind to me, and our friendship made me realise that maybe I wasn’t so completely unlovable after all.” He paused, as if trying to decide whether to continue. Maybe he felt he’d said too much, exposed too much of his true self, but after a moment’s hesitation, he ploughed on. “Then I met this remarkable man,” he said softly.

Josiah gazed at him steadily, sensing he was being told something important, that wasn’t easily shared. “What happened?”

“Timing,” Alexander said wistfully. “It was a long time ago. I barely knew him, but he made me feel something. Is it possible to fall in love in an instant? Without even really knowing someone?”

“I fell in love with Peter the second he handed me a tiny puppy and asked me to hide her. At the time I didn’t know it was love, but I felt something significant. Maybe that’s just the spark, and the real thing takes longer to develop, and you never had that chance with whoever…” Josiah stopped, bemused by the fact he had just shared something so personal with a man he barely knew.

“Yes, maybe. I’ve thought about him so much over the years and wished I could be with him. I can’t call it love, because I didn’t really know him, and he certainly had no interest in me.” Alexander gave a rueful smile.

“Maybe it’s better that way, as a fantasy. I don’t think I’m the kind of person he’d want, to be honest. Deep down, I don’t believe I truly deserve him.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to love and be loved,” Josiah told him firmly.

“I’m an IS and likely to remain so for the rest of my life.” Alexander shrugged. “So even if it could happen, the outcome is unlikely to be happy, for all concerned.”

It was a good point, and not one Josiah had an answer for. An indie as expensive as Alexander had little chance of ever being given his freedom, or permission to marry. His heart ached for him.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Josiah said quietly. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t. I’d tell you more, but…” Alexander tilted his chin and gazed up at Josiah defiantly.

“You don’t trust me.”

“No,” Alexander sighed. “I want to, but I’m not there yet. I don’t think you’re ready to hear it yet, either.”

“It’s that shocking?” Josiah gave a little grin .

“Yes.” Alexander gazed at him steadily.

“I’m not easily shocked.”

“Oh, I promise you that this will shock you.”

Josiah frowned, but Alexander was deadly serious. What on earth could he mean by that? He could tell that the indie felt he’d shared enough, though, and no more would be forthcoming. The evening had been full of surprises, and Josiah realised how tired he was.

“It’s late. I’m going inside,” he said. “You should come in, too.”

“I will. Just give me another minute,” Alexander murmured.

His voice was so wistful that it was all Josiah could do to turn away. He still didn’t know who the real Alexander Lytton was, but right now all he could see was a lonely man, lost in a world that was set firmly against him.