Coming Home

A/N: So I know everyone's been chomping at the bits to know when Dylan and Nathan will reunite and I can conclusively (and exclusively) tell you it will be ** *** **** ******* that that part goes down like Charlie Brown. Thank you to all of the OVER 3,500 people who have at least checked in to read a bit, 130 who have rated and the 35 reviews I've gotten. That may seem paltry in comparison to other authors here, but it severely exceeded my expectations of like 17 hits. So thanks again!

Oooh. Didn't quite get when the reunion is happening?? Check this out then and it might be revealed: (responses for reviews)
http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/50866-reviews-for-coming-home/?p=334173

Songs for this Chapter:

Sail by AWOLNATION
I Don't Care by Apocalyptica feat. Adam Gontier
Dear God by Avenged Sevenfold
I Miss You by Blink 182
What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts
Who You'd Be Today by Kenny Chesney

Present Day

Nathan was barreling through his paperwork at an impressive rate. Despite it only being a few hours since he‘d walked into his office feeling like death warmed over, he was surprisingly wide awake and humming with energy. Darlene knocked on his door before entering. He loved his secretary. They just didn’t make them like her anymore. Raised in the era of bouffant hair and tulle, she clung to the old ways of hairspray and Mary Kay. Spry, sharp, and still flirtatious as ever, she kept Nathan on a pretty tight schedule. Which was just fine with Nathan because he did have a tendency to fixate on the details if he wasn’t careful and could lose track of what he needed to accomplish.

“Don’t forget, darlin’. You and Doc Marshall are seeing that patient on the 7th floor at 4 pm. He called earlier to say he wasn’t running behind, so y’all should be good to go. He‘ll meet you here about half an hour before to fill you on the details.” she said with her thick southern drawl. The sound of her voice was comforting.

“Alright, thank you Darlene.”

She didn’t move from her spot at the door. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze turned into a glare. Sensing this drew Nathan’s attention up. For a moment, they just stared at each other, she in suspicion and he in confusion.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively. Darlene still had the ability to feel like he was a little kid caught stealing a cookie.

“You shouldn’t be smoking, Nathan Oliver Taylor.”

He gaped. How did she-

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Nathan Oliver.” Damnit, she was using his middle name. “And I know when someone’s had more than just a good time. I got my eye on you, you hear me? Don’t make me call Nan.”

Sputtering for a moment, he huffed, “I’m not a little kid, Darlene. I’m on the Board of this hospital. And-”

Cutting him off with a smirk she retorted, “And I’m not your mama so I can’t tell you what to do?”

He shut his mouth, lest he look even more like a fool. “Will that be all, Mrs. Johnson?” he asked with what he hoped was authority, but was almost positive was a fair amount of sullenness.

Smiling indulgently, she said, “Don’t you Mrs. Johnson me, young man. Heed my warning or your mother will be getting an anonymous tip, ya hear?”

She turned to close the door, but not before popping her head back in and said with a saucy grin on her face, “And yes, that will be all Dr. Taylor.”

Sitting back in his chair, Nathan scrubbed his hands over his face. God, he wanted a smoke. Instead of feeling properly scolded, he smiled with affection. Glancing at the clock he figured he could finish up this last review if he hurried before he met with Dr. Marshall to discuss this latest patient’s needs. Picking his pen back up, his mind turned back to the numbers in front of him.

---------

The next knock on his door heralded the arrival of on Dr. Stephen Marshall. He was a quiet but efficient doctor and Nathan had never had a problem working with the man. He was good-looking so that was a plus, but Nathan had never been able to get a handle on the man’s orientation, not for lack of trying though. Dr. Marshall was a born and bred Texan like Nathan and the conversation had always flowed well between the two. He walked in just as Nathan was putting the last of his things away.

“Afternoon, Nathan. How goes it?” he asked with a polite smile.

“Hey, Stephan. It’s going. How was rounds today?”

“Eh, round.” was his short reply.

Smiling at the joke, Nathan replied, “Yeah, I hear that’s how they can be. So what’s going on with this patient of yours?”

“Down to business. My kind of guy.” he said, perking Nathan’s ears. “So, 47 year old Caucasian, non-smoker male. Symptoms are indicative of rapid heart failure. Four days ago he suffered a massive heart attack resulting in as of right now 80% permanent damage of his two ventricles and 65% of left and 37% of his right atria.”

“Jeez. This guy’s in a bad way.”

“Yeah. Your telling me. I don’t know how he was still walking. He’s has ignored his symptoms for, by my generous estimation, a minimum of 5 years. Wrote it off as heat exhaustion, stomach bugs, pulled muscles. This attack could’ve killed him. Should have, in fact. At the rate he‘s going, he won‘t last a year without a transplant. We both know what the chances of him getting that any time soon are, though. ” They both gave each other a knowing look. Darryl wasn’t bad enough to garner a class one status, so his wait would be anywhere from 6 months to 16 years.

Noting the look of excitement in the other doctor‘s face, Nathan said, “You don’t look particularly torn up about it. What have you found?“

Smiling, Stephan looked down at his hands and said, “There’s a study going on that I’d like to get him into. It’s a combination of a new drug trial coupled with the LVAD.” Leaning in with an open and earnest look on his face, Stephan continued, “Nathan, if we can get him in and this works out it can reverse enough of the damage done to his heart to let him function with oral treatment and eventually have the VAD removed and forgo the transplant all together. Darryl McNamara could live for the next 5 to 10 years getting better.”

The name was like a punch to the gut for Nathan. All the desire to help a soul in need, the excitement to have a part of such a revolutionary study, the fulfillment he received when he was just doing his job were washed out with a tidal wave of hate and resentment that was surprising only for hearing a name he‘d avoided like the plague. Fucking Darryl McNamara. The man who threw his Dylan away like a piece of trash. The sense of helplessness that he felt when he thought of Dylan and Darryl was so overpowering that if he hadn’t been sitting he would’ve fallen over.

Noticing something was amiss by the darkening look on the usually jovial young man, Stephan leaned forward a bit. “Nathan. Are you okay?”

But Nathan could barely hear him. His mind was racing and his heart was thundering away like a stampede of steers. Mind awash with questions and feelings that he hadn’t encountered since he found out what that scum had done to his young love were drowning out all his higher functions. His heart was screaming for him to go up there and finish what the heart attack hadn’t done. Or at the very least let the bastard die a slow and miserable death. His brain… well it wasn’t disagreeing. Physically shaking himself, he tried to reign his thoughts and emotions in.

“Nathan?”

Looking up as if seeing the other man for the first time, he tried to recover, “Uh. Sorry. Um… Yeah that study…”

“Yeah… Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little shaken. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, no I’m… just give me a minute. I’m going to use the restroom.”
“Okay,” Stephan replied warily, “Take your time.”

Getting up and moving quickly, Nathan ensconced himself in his private bathroom and leaned his hands on the sink. God, I haven’t lost it like this in so long. Indulging in his memories, he swept back to the turbulent first days of his return from college.

6 years ago

His phone had been ringing off the hook as his parents and brother had all been checking his progress for the day. He was excited to be going finally going home too, not having been back in four years. But if they didn’t stop calling every minute he was going to chuck his cell in the toilet.

Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Kyle. It was marginally easier to talk to Kyle because he was not fielding questions every 20 seconds. Plus, in his defense, he hadn’t called Nathan once that day so he picked it up.

“Hey Kyle.”

“Nathan, oh my god! You’ll never guess what!” Kyle exploded out in worry.

“Is everything okay?” Nathan asked panic rising at his normally laughing little brother.

“No, Nathan, it’s not. Look I didn’t say anything to anyone earlier, just cause I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but I haven’t seen Dylan for a while. I mean, we haven’t been that close for awhile now, but we still catch up with each other at least once a week. You know we’ll go to that coffee shop and just shoot the breeze-”

“Get to the fucking point Kyle.” Nathan growled.

“Okay, okay. Well, about two weeks ago we were gonna meet up, but he was late and then he didn’t stay too long. He seemed real down and quiet. Well, quieter. He asked about you like he always does and then out of no where he says he’s thinking of dropping out. ”

“What th- why?” The panic in Nathan’s heart was picking up speed.

“I don’t know. He just said some stuff, but I think he really just doesn’t want to be around Darryl anymore. Anyways, it was just that once and he didn’t say anything about it again and then he made some shit excue But then I hadn’t seen him for like ever, even at school. So I tried calling and texting, but I wasn’t getting anything. So yesterday, I went over there. That jackass Riley answered the door. I really hate that guy. Anyways. Nathan! He said Dylan left! That he just up and left and they don’t know where he went and they weren’t going to try and find him! Nathan, Dylan’s been missing for over a week!”

Nathan’s heart dropped. Bile rose in the back of his mouth and tears sprung to his eyes. He could hear the blood pounding away in his ears and the room swayed violently. He found himself sitting on the floor with no idea of how much time had passed or when he’d sat down. The first thing he noticed was an old, familiar glass frame being clutched in his hands so tightly his knuckles were a sickly white color.

Vaguely, he began to hear a ringing sound in the background. It was becoming louder as his brain was clearing. He looked around in confusion for the source of the sound. Just a few feet away was his phone, face down. Sluggishly he reached over and picked it up and answered.

“NATHAN! Are you okay? Did you lose signal or something??” Kyle’s worried voice penetrated the haze surrounding Nathan.

“Umm… yeah, sorry.” he mindlessly mumbled.

“Jeez, Nathan, you can’t do that to me man! I’m the one freaking out here, you can’t just go silent on me. I’m worried about Dylan, dude. What do I do? His phone is turned off. As in, they disconnected his number. I haven’t seen him. No one knows where he’s at. I went to his work and Brian said that Dylan just didn’t show one day, which is totally not like him. You know he doesn’t do Facebook or anything like that. I’ve sent emails but his computer broke a few months ago and Darryl said he wouldn’t replace it for him, which is why he started down at the Sagebrush. Crap man I don’t know how to get a hold of him. I mean, do I call the cops?”

Silently, Nathan just sat there. What Kyle was telling him was not painting a pretty picture. Guilt was crushing him. He hugged the frame with a picture of what he had hoped was his future to his chest and for the first time in a very long time he let his mind fully embrace all the memories he had of Dylan. The tears came faster and hotter. No!!! he screamed in his head. I’ve busted my ASS off for the past four years non-stop so I could get back to him sooner! Not now. Not when it’s all in sight… Please… his heart was pleading.

“I think we need to talk to dad, Nathan.” Kyle said.

“I think you’re right, Kyle.” Nathan choked out.

When Nathan had gotten home two days later, the family went to the police. Less than 24 hours later, the picture that had not looked pretty to Nathan was most definitely uglier than anyone could have guessed.

Darryl had weaved a tale backed by a “prominent” figure in the community of an assault perpetrated by Dylan. Darryl praised said figure, the odious Brian Green, as being so generous as to not press charges. He told how in a fit of anger Dylan had run away and that was just cause for Darryl to wash his hands of such a wayward boy. With no rebuttal available from Dylan, the cops chose to wash their hands of it as well. No amount of protest could change their minds.

Nathan had not been able to hold himself back and had launched himself in anger at Darryl. Before he could land a punch, the thick arms of his father had restrained him. In the commotion, his tears of fear and tears of anger could not obscure his view of the malicious smirk on Riley McNamara’s face as his family ushered him out of the police station.

“I’m sorry, Nathan. But there’s no law against being a scumbag. Without Dylan to tell us differently, there’s nothing we can do to Darryl.” His father had said. Nathan was laying on his parents bed in a deep despair that he was contemplating never crawling out of. What was the point? He had failed the one person he swore he’d never forget and never let down.

Present Day

Nathan’s breathing was harsh and shallow. He’d never in a million years expect this. He wanted to go up there right now and smother Darryl with a pillow, resuscitate him, and repeat over and over and over again. Such a strong anger and a deep, dark pain were constricting his lungs with each breath. He wanted tear the world down piece by piece until it felt the same anguish he did without Dylan there in his life.

Drawing a shaky breath in, he forced himself to calm down. He forced himself to think objectively. Dylan might not even be there. They had said they weren’t going to look for him and after all this time it was doubtful that they could track him down. That hurt more than he thought it would. Just a tease of Dylan was enough to have the restrained tears welling up in his eyes.

The thought of Darryl dieing was satisfying, but the circumstances surrounding his acquaintance with the man and his part in ending or helping to prolong the man’s life turned those thoughts cold and it left him feeling more and more hollow. How do you help someone who deserves to be gutted? Drawn and quartered? The more Nathan thought of why Darryl should be punished, the angrier he got. Darryl hadn’t just fucked up Dylan’s life. He’d messed with Nathan and all the people Dylan had known. He’d taken away Dylan’s innocence and Nathan had had to basically sit and watch as the boy crumbled. He could only imagine what had happened after he’d left for college.

But there was also this other part of him that was reminding him of his responsibilities. He was loyal to the pursuit of knowledge and the betterment of society. He had a hand in helping others educate themselves and save lives. Maybe if he could just see Darryl as just an experiment…. He could deal with that. An experiment that he really wanted to succeed., but if it failed it was no skin off his back. He knew if Darryl did end up dying, at least he wouldn’t feel guilty. He would try, not for Darryl, but because his ethics demanded it and because, if he was being honest with himself, a part of him was hesitant to lose even the most tenuous of connections to his Dylan.

Pulling himself together, he could breathe a little easier. Straightening himself up, he walked back into his office where Dr. Marshall was sitting patiently.

“You okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah. Sorry, must have been my lunch acting up on me.” he lied smoothly. “Let’s go speak with Mr. McNamara.”

A/N2: I am so not a medical doctor so please don't take any of my "diagnosis" as fact. It's purely a stringing together of things I've encountered. Yes the LVAD is real. Yes that study is real. Yes there are class status' for those waiting for a heart transplant. Yes you can ignore blatant signs of heart problems by explaining them away by stomach aches, heat exhaustion, fatigue, strained muscles. So to all my readers please take care of your hearts, don't ignore the signs, become an organ donor!! Oh yeah...Keep calm, Carry on!