My Life Is You - COMPLETE

A/N: Six new reviews over night! *skips around doing a happy dance* Talk about a smile on my face! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!

Ok, seriousness now. This chapter may get some of you upset. That’s ok. Really, it is. I promise. After all, things have to go wrong before they can be made right, right? I think some of you are going to be very angry at a certain character by the end. Uh uh, no use asking who. You’ll find out once you’ve read this chapter!

pesterme2: I really did stop there. Glad you agree it’s a perfect, yet diabolical stopping point. I wonder what you’ll think of this one. And can you really be upset with Dillon for hiding his sausage in Dave’s mouth? After all, as far as he knows Seth has no interest in his sausage. Ok, that just sounded weird, but I’m still leaving it there because I know you’ll get a good laugh out of it. And I gotta agree about the bottle of oil and two hot guys. It’s one of my fav fantasies!

Jules: The abuse will come. That said, I’m not sure my definition of abuse and the definition that the site gives matches, now that I think about it. I’ll have to figure that out. Unfortunately at this point Seth is not grabbing and kissing anyone. He has his own issues to work through. You’ll just have to see how they go on. But I do promise a resolution for everyone in the end. *holds hand up in ‘girl scout oath’ position* I solemnly swear that I will not leave you or any other readers hanging.

JtheChosen1, Demmy, crazykitty, and heroineM: so happy you’re enjoying my little story! And I promise to be a prompt updater. Just watch me go!

OK, on with the story. . .


Chapter 6


Seth sat in his living room, reading a file on Alyxandria Mallon. She was a 22-year-old woman who had been injured while snowboarding. Her back was broken in two places, but luckily her spinal column was not damaged.

Tomorrow, Seth would move into Miss Mallon’s house and begin to work with her. Her father, who was quite well off and very protective of his daughter, had delayed her starting therapy because he hadn’t met any therapists he’d liked.

That had changed once Seth interviewed for the position. While Seth found Mr. Mallon overbearing and rude, Mr. Mallon apparently believed Seth to be the man that would be best for his little girl.

Seth knew he had a lot of work to do with Miss Mallon. She should have started therapy almost a month ago, which meant her recovery was already well behind schedule. Back injuries were tricky enough without being slow out of the starting gate. He only hoped she was a much more open, accepting person than her father, because he didn’t want to spend the next three weeks trying to convince her to trust him before they began any real work.

He should have been totally focused on Alyxandria Mallon’s injury and developing a program that was right for her. Every injury, every person, demanded specialization. Seth excelled at finding ways to help people that worked with that person’s personality and challenges, but only if he concentrated on the task at hand.

So, here he sat, reading everything and comprehending nothing. He wasn’t taking notes or planning exercises, like he normally would be.

Sighing in disgust, he closed the file and threw it onto the coffee table. He scrubbed his hands over his face, the three-day growth of beard on his cheeks and chin making a raspy sound against the skin of his hands.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he hadn’t given his full attention to anything since the night a week ago that Dillon had fired him. He hadn’t been working out at the gym, hanging with his friends, or helping others. He hadn’t even been eating right. All he had been doing was thinking about Dillon and trying to figure out how things had gone so horribly wrong.

Somehow, Dillon had misinterpreted everything he wanted to say before he even got a chance to say it. He had majorly overreacted to the comment about it being obvious he was gay. Maybe if Seth had explained he’d seen Dillon’s collection of gay porn, Dillon would have been more understanding. Of course, Dillon hadn’t given him the chance to explain that and if he had, he might have accused Seth of snooping.

Now, Seth was kicking himself for not forcing Dillon to listen to him. He should have insisted that Dillon calm down and listen. He should have refused to leave until they had sat down and figured everything out.

But like an idiot he hadn’t done that. Instead, he’d turned and gone to his room, where he’d packed up all his things. When he’d walked out the front door, he’d closed it very quietly behind him, knowing that he’d never be coming back.

On Monday morning he’d arranged for his therapist equipment to be picked up and delivered to his house. Now, it all sat in his garage, waiting for transport to the home of Alyxandria Mallon.

Dillon loved him. Seth groaned. When had that happened? How had he missed it? That revelation had totally shocked Seth. It was the last thing he had expected to hear from Dillon, especially in the middle of an argument. The words had rang in his ears long after they were said.

And did he love Dillon? Seth couldn’t deny he was attracted to Dillon. He’d been attracted to Dillon the first time they’d met. Seth’s lips curled in a wry smile. Dillon didn’t remember the first time they’d met. As far as he’d been concerned, he hadn’t known Seth until the day Seth had shown up at his house, ready to take on the job of being his therapist.

Ironic wasn’t it? Dillon had been so adverse to the idea of getting to know Seth that he didn’t even remember the week they’d shared a room in the hospital while Seth had been recovering from surgery on his wrist and elbow. Yet now, he was in love with Seth.

Seth had been blown away by Dillon the first time he’d seen him. Dillon had looked so lost and alone, so scared of what was to come. No one had come to visit Dillon and Seth had wondered if Dillon was truly alone in the world.

He hadn’t succeeded, but he’d tried very hard to draw Dillon out. He’d talked more than he ever had before, chattering away about anything and everything that had come to mind. His rambling dialogues had only seemed to push Dillon farther into his shell, however, and finally he had given up.

He did remember the dreams Dillon used to have at night while in the hospital. Seth didn’t know exactly what they were about, but he’d been able to tell that Dillon had lost someone close to him. Dillon would cry in his sleep, begging someone not to leave, to stay, to not take their love away.

At the time, Seth had believed Dillon was talking about someone who had died in the same car accident that had injured Dillon. Now he knew the truth, that Dillon had been crying out for Brad not to leave him.

Seth took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. Every time he thought about Brad, he got angry enough to spit nails. The man was so damn selfish! Dillon had needed him, but he hadn’t thought of that. All he’d thought about was his own needs.

But am I any better? Seth asked himself.

Instead of acknowledging Dillon’s love, he had just walked away. Of course, Dillon had kicked him out first, but that was beside the point. He’d left when he could have refused to. He could have stayed and fought to explain himself.

Now, though, he couldn’t go back. Dillon had been abandoned so many times; he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the latest man to do it to him.

His shoulders shaking, Seth crumpled in on himself. He had just realized that he did love Dillon and that by not letting Dillon know, he’d lost him.

***

Dillon sat in his room, his head leaning back against the wall behind him. The window was thrown open and he was seated upon the window seat.

From the sidewalk below him, he could hear the playful growling of Bandy, the fox terrier that belonged to the kids that lived next door. He was pretty sure that a spirited game of tug-of-war would be in progress between Bandy and his youthful masters.

More and more lately, Dillon found himself wishing that he had a finished backyard and a deck. He would love to have the chance to sit outside whenever he wanted and feel the sun on his face.

Spring was here. It had arrived the day he and Seth had gone to the park and it had decided to stay, instead of just visiting and then leaving again like it sometimes did. Dillon had always loved spring and the chance to have fun outside.

Though none of them had mentioned it to him, Dillon knew his friends would have started up the informal Ultimate Frisbee League they had created four years ago. They’d be meeting every Tuesday after work to play.

Dillon wondered who had taken his place this year. The teams had been evenly divided last year, with four men to each team. It wasn’t fair to have four against three, so they must have found another player.

Maybe Brad had a new boyfriend and he’d been invited to join in. The thought hurt, but Dillon knew it was possible. As one of the founders of the game, Brad would still be playing and probably had found Dillon’s replacement.

Spring was a time for rebirth, at least according to all the poems. So why didn’t he feel renewed? When all was said and done, he should be feeling pretty good about himself. He was walking; his new therapist said he was doing very well for a man who had injured his knee so badly.

Of course the fact that he had a new therapist might be part of it. He missed Seth, wanted Seth back in his life. The woman who was helping him now was nice enough, but she didn’t have the personality or sense of humor that Seth had. Nor did she understand him the way Seth did. I want Seth back, he wailed in the depths of his heart.

Not that it was possible. Even if Seth were gay, which Dillon knew he wasn’t, there was no way Seth would ever forgive him for being so rude. What had come over him? He hadn’t allowed Seth to get a word in edgewise.

Granted, Seth had revealed that he’d been aware of the fact that Dillon was gay, but that didn’t mean Seth had a problem with it. So Seth hadn’t said anything, so what? Could Dillon really expect Seth to bring it up in the conversation? What would he have said? "Great, bend your knee a little farther now. By the way, I know you like to take it up the ass and that’s totally cool. Now extend that knee." Dillon just didn’t see them having a conversation like that.

***

Sweat ran down Dillon’s nose and dripped onto the floor as he struggled to keep his balance. His arms were spread wide and once again his right foot was hooked over his left leg. This time, however, he had a thick pillow placed directly beneath his right knee. With each bend of his arms, his knee sank onto the pillow for a brief moment.

Reaching the fiftieth push-up, he gratefully sank down and strained back up for the last time. Once done, he allowed himself to sink down onto the floor, the pillow cushioning his knee. The carpet was damp where his head was, having been watered by the sweat running off him.

After a moment’s rest, he rolled over onto his back. Bending his knees so that his feet rested on the floor, he cupped his hands in loose fists next to, but not touching, his ears. Sucking in a breath, he began to do crunches, twisting at the top of each motion.

Losing himself in the motion, he pushed hard. He added an extra twist at the top of each crunch in order to make the exercise more difficult. Soon, his abdominal muscles began to ache, but he just kept going. Only when there was no way he could lift his upper body from the floor again did he stop.

Dillon knew he shouldn’t be pushing this hard, that he would regret it the next day, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Only when his body was on fire from the pain of physical exertion did his heart take a break from burning with unrequited love.

A month had gone by since he had kicked Seth out of his life, but his heart hurt as much today as it did the day it happened. More so, in some ways.

His friends were wonderful people. They did their best to treat him the same as they had before the accident, but in some ways that just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t play football or Ultimate Frisbee with them and golfing was definitely out of the question. Even going to the movies was a changed experience since he spent most of the movie asking what was happening.

That didn’t stop them from trying at first, though. Jeremy, especially, had been determined to find new ways to spend time with him. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jeremy was a family man/homemaker at heart. Lately, Jeremy and the others hadn’t been coming around anymore. In fact, Dillon couldn’t remember the last time he had heard the phone ring. He had thought about calling them, but if they were uncomfortable with him, he didn’t want to force himself upon them.

Soon, he would have to find a way to begin his life again. He’d obtained a huge settlement from the guy who had caused the accident, enough that he’d never have to work again, but he couldn’t stand being idle for the rest of his life. He was used to being busy, to having a purpose to his days. Since the accident, his purpose had been to learn to walk, to learn to live. Well, he was succeeding. What was next?

Dillon knew one thing that he wanted to start as soon as possible: he wanted to learn to read. He missed reading, missed losing himself in a book. Well, that could be solved. He had signed up to take a class in Braille twice a week and soon he’d be on the way to enjoying the imaginations of others.

***

"Come on, Sprite, you can do it. Your fingers are so close. Just a bit more and you’ll be touching those toes!"

Seth stood to the side of Alyxandria Mallon and watched her struggle. Alyxandria, or Alyx as her friends called her, had become Sprite in his mind. She was a tiny woman with a lithe body, reminding him of a wood sprite. In addition, she was bubbly, effervescent, and had a bit of a tang to her. Even her brown hair curled and bounced wildly. Yep, she was definitely Sprite!

Sprite didn’t let anything get her down. Or, at least, she never stayed down long. Emotionally, she bounced back with alacrity no matter what was thrown at her.

She wasn’t bouncing back from her injury that quickly, though. The snowboarding accident had resulted in her back being broken in two places, but it had also been responsible for some of the muscles being pierced and/or severed by bone fragments. This just wasn’t something you could quickly recover from.

Seth had to admit that didn’t keep Sprite from trying. She was determined to touch those toes of hers by the end of the session and since Seth knew how important a milestone it would be for her, he was doing his best to give her all the encouragement and support she needed.

He could almost see her gathering herself mentally and emotionally for one final stretch, a last ditch attempt. He smiled, knowing she was going to make it. And when her fingertips brushed the tops of her toes, if only for a second, he cheered aloud.

Sprite slowly straightened back up, her face red with exertion but covered with a huge grin. Placing her hands on the top of the massage table, she used it for support as she rested.

It was times like these that Seth loved being a physical therapist. It was hard, sweaty work. Often, you got cussed out and verbally abused by those you were trying to help. You spent time causing people even more pain than they had already been through. But who cared when you were rewarded with a smile and a look of accomplishment like that?

Seth stepped forward and carefully helped Sprite up onto the massage table. Her breathing was still heightened and her muscles still trembling. He turned to place the bottle of massage oil in the warmer and grab a towel she could wrap around herself.

As he did so, he heard a rustling sound. When he turned back, it was to the sight of Sprite very calmly stripping herself. She had already removed her top and was now trying to divest herself of her sweatpants. Once she was done, she calmly sat there in her panties and sports bra.

"Umm, Sprite, don’t you want a towel or covering or something?"

"Why?" Sprite asked. "First of all, it will be easier to massage my back if there’s no material in the way. Second, it’s not like I have anything you or anyone who has seen a movie hasn’t seen. Besides, you’re not interested in what I have anyway. I might be worried if I were male, but since I’m not I think I’m safe."

Seth stared at her in shock. This was the first time that she had made a comment about anything to do with his sexuality. Up until now, while they had joked and teased each other, playing around as they worked, neither of them had said anything remotely personal.

Sprite burst out laughing. "Oh, Seth, Hon, I wish you could see your face!" she exclaimed, her shoulders shaking in mirth. "I’ll only say this. Your bedroom is next to mine and if you want to keep your homosexuality a secret, don’t shout out Dillon’s name during the middle of your wet dreams like you did last night!"

Feeling red creep into his cheeks, Seth thankfully turned toward the warmer as it buzzed. "How do you know Dillon isn’t a woman? That’s a name that can be either."

"True," Sprite answered, turning gingerly over onto her stomach. "But I can’t imagine you telling a woman that you love her cock."

Seth’s hand spasmed on the bottle of oil he had just opened and some shot out, spraying onto the floor. That was it! His cheeks felt so hot he expected them to burst into flames at any moment!

***

Dillon carefully buttoned the last button on his shirt. Then, he ran his hands slowly up the placket, making sure that each button was inserted into its matching hole. He couldn’t believe how complicated buttoning his own shirt was now that he couldn’t tell visually if he was doing it right.

Once he was satisfied, he turned and carefully made his way into the bathroom adjoining his bedroom. His brush was placed neatly to the left of the sink where he was able to easily find it.

Prior to the accident, he hadn’t been a slob, but he hadn’t been a neat freak either. Things were put away or sitting neatly out, but not always in the same place. Recently, though, he had learned how much easier his life could be made if things were replaced exactly where they belonged.

Running the brush through his hair, he attempted to get it neat. It was difficult to tell, but once it felt to him like his hair was not standing on end, he figured that would be good enough.

He was taking more care with his appearance tonight than he had in a long time. Other than doctor’s appointments and time spent with his friends, he hadn’t been going out at all. Tonight, however, he started his Braille classes and he wanted to look his best since he would be meeting new people.

Then something hit him. It was a Braille class. The majority of people in it were bound to be blind! They weren’t going to care what he looked like! Dillon smiled sheepishly and grabbing his cane, carefully made his way toward the door.

Nurse Sterning was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Once she saw him coming, she announced that she was going out to start the car. Dillon felt that was a little premature since he still had to make it down the stairs, but he didn’t argue.

Reaching the lower landing, he counted the steps to take him to the hall table. His questing fingers quickly found his wallet and house keys. Once he was ready, he moved forward and opened the screen door. Locking the door behind him, he made his way out into the early evening air.

Nurse Sterning’s car was softly chugging away. It was accompanied by the sound of the grasshoppers and cicadas, newly awoken, rubbing their legs together. As Dillon maneuvered his way down the path toward the car, he heard a mosquito buzzing near his ear and impatiently swatted it away.

Grasping the door handle of the old Chevy Caprice that Nurse Sterning drove, Dillon moved to sit in the car. As usual, he knocked himself on the head. He tried so hard not to do that, but somehow he managed it every time. Of course, it would be easier if Nurse Sterning would watch him slide into the car like Seth used to do and let him know if he was too high or low. Unfortunately, Nurse Sterning wasn’t that concerned with his welfare.

The community center where Dillon’s class was being held wasn’t far from Dillon’s house. The trip there was made in silence other than the evangelist preaching on the radio. After riding in Nurse Sterning’s car several times, he had been tempted to ask if there was an all-evangelical radio station in the area, since he couldn’t remember her ever having anything else on. He hadn’t because he knew she wouldn’t find it funny.

Personally, Dillon didn’t get into evangelists. He didn’t enjoy being told that he was a sinner just because he existed and he really didn’t agree that he could buy redemption by sending some stranger 40% of his earnings every month.

That didn’t mean Dillon felt all evangelists should be stopped from preaching. He figured the institution continued to survive because of the few truly genuine people, not because of the shysters.

Upon arriving at the community center, Nurse Sterning parked the car and led Dillon into the building. She walked a bit faster than he was comfortable with and failed to tell him when to step up onto the sidewalk, so he ended up stumbling a bit as he entered the building, the door catching him on the back of his heels as it swung shut.

Nurse Sterning stopped for a moment, before turning to the left and leading him down the hall. Turning to the right, she proceeded through a doorway, Dillon’s shoulder hitting the doorjamb.

Dillon found himself seated at a table. He wasn’t sure if it was at the front or the back of the room, but he could tell that there were others sitting around the table as well. Nurse Sterning informed him she would be back in two hours and then left.

The silence was uncomfortable. Dillon didn’t know how many people were there, but none of them were speaking. Occasionally, there was an uncomfortable cough or the sound of rustling as someone squirmed in his seat, but other than that the room was still.

The tapping of a cane against the doorjamb broke the quiet. Slow deliberate footsteps told of a new person entering the room. Whoever it was laid something heavy down on a desk or table. Dillon heard the quiet snick of briefcase locks being opened. The class teacher must have arrived.

"I always find it interesting that on the first day of class, no one is ever talking to each other," a tenor voice with an eastern accent said. "The reason I say this is because I also teach this class for non-blind students and on the first day of class they’re always talking up a storm, getting to know each other.

"As blind people, for some reason we enter a room and isolate ourselves. We stand or sit there and say nothing, do nothing. It’s like there’s this thought going through our heads: if I don’t attract any attention, no one will notice I’m different.

"Well, I’m here to tell you, you are different. You’re blind and there’s no going back. It just doesn’t work that way. You can, however go forward and continue to have a life very similar to the one you had before you lost your sight.

"Braille is a huge tool in helping you to enter the world again. It’s going to let you communicate effectively, not only with other people, but also with yourself. It’s going to show you that you can walk into a room again and get to know those around you without someone else making the introductions."

Dillon squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. That was exactly what he had been doing; he’d been waiting for someone to let him know who the other people in the room were. It hadn’t occurred to him that prior to the accident, he would have taken care of that himself.

"First, though, we’re going to have to deal with a common misconception. Braille does not make you blind. You’re already blind, so Braille isn’t changing that.

"Second, Braille will not make you more noticeable as a blind person. In fact, it will decrease that noticeabiltiy since when most people look at you, all they’ll see is someone reading a book.

"Finally, Braille is not a whole new language. If you were literate before, than you are now. You’ll still be using the same letters, the same words, the same language; the letters will just be formed differently. Once you learn to think of an 'E' as two diagonal dots instead of four lines, you’ll be well on your way to reading Shakespeare or Tom Clancy, whichever you prefer.

"Now, placed in the middle of each table are some large boards. I want everyone to grab one and we’ll begin our lesson."

***

Dillon placed the last plastic egg in his final egg carton. Skimming his fingers over the cartons, he compared the letters he had made with the ones on the primer he had been given at the beginning of class. A smile spread across his face as he confirmed that he had just spelled his name in Braille.

"Everyone should be finished now, so I’m going to go around and meet everyone. This is why I didn’t let any of you tell me your names at the beginning of the class. I wanted you to use Braille to introduce yourselves to me."

Dillon heard the tapping of a cane and then the instructor said, "Hello Maria, it’s nice to meet you. Let me introduce myself, but please don’t say my name aloud." There was a brief silence before a woman responded, "Hello, it’s nice to meet you too."

Once again the cane briefly tapped its way across the floor and another person introduced himself to the instructor. This continued until Dillon sensed the man standing next to him.

"Ah, Dillon, it’s nice to meet you as well. You are the last student, so once you read my name, please feel free to call me by it."

Dillon nervously reached out and ran his hand over the stiff cardstock that the instructor held. He used his fingers to feel the raised dots several times before being sure he had the right name. "It’s nice to meet you too, Paul."

***

The class was over and people were slowly standing up. The sound of many canes tapping on the floor gave off an irregular beat as the students worked their way toward the door, being careful not to run into anyone or anything.

Dillon hesitated when out in the corridor. Nurse Sterning hadn’t identified herself and he didn’t remember how many steps down the hall he would have to go before reaching the main hallway.

There was a babble of voices as family members and caretakers claimed their charges. Some of the students were talking excitedly about all they had learned, while others were more subdued.

Dillon would have fallen into the former category, but he had no one to share his exuberance with. So instead he waited for Nurse Sterning to arrive, being careful to stay back against the wall, out of the way of the crowd.

The hallway quickly cleared, the last of the people headed for home. Still he waited. He was sure Nurse Sterning had said she’d be back at the end of the class. Where could she be?

"Who’s still here?" Paul’s voice questioned.

"It’s Dillon," Dillon replied. "How did you know I was here?"

"I could hear you breathing. Isn’t anyone coming for you?"

"Yes, I have a live-in nurse that should be here any moment. I don’t know why she’s running late."

"Maybe she’s waiting for you at the front door," Paul said, moving to stand next to Dillon. "Why don’t we go up there?"

"I take it you know how to get there," Dillon said.

"Oh yes, I’ve taught this class in this classroom for four years now," Paul laughed. "I could tell you exactly how many steps to any place in this building, including both bathrooms, the cafeteria, the front door, all the fire exits, and my office."

"I think you have it covered!"

"Here, take my arm. You don’t have anything against the blind leading the blind, do you?"

**

A heavy book was spread open on Dillon’s lap. His fingers were running slowly over one of the pages. Dillon laughed as he read the first sentence of his homework, "See Spot Run." Well, I guess I have to start somewhere, he said to himself.

The doorbell rang just as Dillon was turning to the next page. He put the book aside and grabbed his cane. Standing, he moved out of his bedroom and into the hall. Before he could reach the upper landing of the stairs, he heard the front door close and footsteps moving away from it.

"Who was there?" he called out.

"Just girl scouts selling cookies," Nurse Sterning replied before walking back to the kitchen.

"Oh," Dillon said, turning to go back into his room. He had been hoping for company. It had been a while since any of his friends had visited and he actually wanted to show off his reading, even if it was a children’s book about a dog.

***

"It’s great that Dillon is getting out more," Dave said to Jeremy as they turned away from Dillon’s front door. "Still, it would have been nice if he had let us know he couldn’t come today instead of just skipping out on us."

"Well, I never actually spoke with Dillon," Jeremy reminded Dave as they climbed back into the car. "I just left a message with Nurse Sterning that we wanted to take him to the Nickelback concert tonight and that he should call if he couldn’t go. Maybe something got screwed up and he thought he was only supposed to call if he was coming."

"I suppose that’s possible," Dave admitted as he started the car. "You think Scott will want the extra ticket?"