"Upon the continent of my soul, I shall find the forgotten language."

Look Homeward, Angel

x x x

David looked around Jack's apartment with interest, taking in Jack's desk, the masks on the wall over his bed, his small kitchen along one wall and the sliding glass doors that lead to his small balcony. Jack held out his hand for David's bag, and once again he could see uncertainty in David's eyes.

"Is it staying here with me, or staying at my apartment?" David shrugged, and handed his bag to Jack who put it on the floor next to his dresser.

David said, "If the police check my name, they could come to your home. That A.D.A., Wilson? He might ask for my name to be looked into. He didn't like losing."

Jack walked over to him and touched him on the arm. "We can go to a motel room, if you want. But I've got a police scanner here."

He walked over to his kitchen corner and reached up to the top of the refrigerator, clicked it on, set the volume just loud enough so that he'd notice if his street or address was mentioned.

Jack kicked off his shoes by his dresser and looked at David. His friend was showing him a lot of trust, coming home with Jack like this. The small touches they'd indulged in after court and during lunch were a kind of foreplay that they both acknowledged. David had come home with him; Jack wanted him to relax.

"David, I don't think the cops are going to be too interested in checking you out. If they do, it'll probably be just for Chicago or the state of Illinois or they'll check with NCIS. You weren't listed as a missing person or wanted for any sort of criminal charges, because the hospital you were in when you had amnesia sent your fingerprints to them. They drew a blank."

"That's true. I'd forgotten about that."

"If the cops think to check your name with your Army records and cross check with the Social Security Death Index, you'll come up as deceased."

"The F.B.I checked there and got my name, but the agents let me go and got rid of the file that was sent."

"You haven't done anything to bring the cops down on you, so you're probably as safe as you ever are. I don't think the CPD is going to take Stella too seriously if she remembers where she saw you." He shrugged off his suit coat, put it over the back of a chair.

"I guess we're okay." David smiled, but he still looked uptight. Really, he'd been that way ever since Stella had glanced at his face. Mick was a great guy, but he was a lawyer. Asking questions was what he did. It hadn't exactly been a relaxing lunch. Still, now David had an attorney he could call if he was tossed in the clink.

Speaking of which... "Hey, we can compare jailhouse stories now. I was in for four days."

David's eyes crinkled when he smiled this time. "I've got you beat. I worked on a road gang for weeks when I was in the prison camp, remember?"

"I was in the Cook County Jail. Cook. County. Jail. That should trump taking a stroll down the highway with a shovel, and getting all that fresh air." Jack loosened his tie, pulled it off his neck, and tossed it toward a chair. He missed and it landed on the floor. He didn't care. He started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hot, hot sun, Jack. And since the guys thought I was a snitch, one of them cut my leg pretty badly with a shovel And.." He made his voice sound like a TV announcer's patter. "I got bit by a snake when I got dragged along on an escape attempt." David watched him take off his shirt, leaving Jack in just a sleeveless undershirt.

"I had to eat cabbage soup and baloney sandwiches." Jack made a face, remembering the taste.

"I got thrown a blanket party."

Jack walked over to the door and locked it, and put on the chains. He walked back over to David, and raised his eyebrows.

"I could kiss where they whaled on you and make it better," he suggested, and unbuttoned David's top button, and then stopped, waiting for David's permission before he made another move.

Still using that ridiculous voice, David added, "I also got framed for murdering somebody I never even met, just because I was hitchhiking down the road and the cops scooped me up. They said they were just going to give me a ride..." He slid Jack's hand down to his next button. Jack undid it and then the next two, tugging David's shirt free. David wasn't wearing a T-shirt underneath his button down, and Jack traced a line down David's smooth chest, his fingers briefly touching the gold chain and medal David wore.

"But they really gave you a ride. You and the murdered man's wife. I remember you telling me about that. Tell you what, you win. What do you want for your prize?"

"Strawberries." David took the hem of Jack's T-shirt and pulled it off, then placed both of his hands over Jack's nipples. Jack shivered, and not from the cool air in the room.

"Strawberries. Well, okay, fine, we can go to the grocery later." Jack put his hands on David's hips and drew him close. David slid his arms up until they were around Jack's neck.

"Not real strawberries. This kind of strawberries." He drew Jack's mouth down to his and kissed him. It was a little clumsy and sweet and Jack loved it.

They kissed for a few minutes, and Jack put his hand in David's hair, feeling the weight of it, the softness, the way the longer hair at the back of David's neck would curl around his finger. He became more demanding with the kiss, moving them a little towards the bed.

"Jack. Wait." He stopped moving, but he kept his hands on David's waist.

"Whatever you need, David. We can take it slower."

He wondered if David was having second thoughts. David had battened the hatches down on his occasional attraction to a man till just a few years ago. If he hadn't had amnesia and been given the freedom to just act on his desires, maybe he never would have kissed another man or let them stroke him or fuck him. Maybe he wanted to be in the driver's seat. That was okay with Jack. He hadn't done it that often either, but they could stumble along together.

"No, that's not it. I know what I want. I've wanted you for months. Maybe years. I just thought... You should know that..." He huffed in frustration.

"Hey. Come here." He drew David into a tight hug, his hands under David's shirt, a warm gathering of his body into Jack's arms. He stayed quiet, just letting David soak up his care.

And he did care about him. He'd liked him when he was just John Doe, brave lost soul. He'd admired David Banner, the scientist, the man who'd run into a burning building to save a friend. He'd watched David's inner frustrations take form as a huge giant green man, one who always seemed to do the right thing, even if he was hell on property values. Sure the Hulk was scary. So was a hurricane. The difference was that the Hulk wouldn't hurt any innocents, and he only used enough force to put down the fools stupid enough to hurt David or somebody under David's protection.

He felt David relaxing in his arms. "Better now?"

David mumbled against his shoulder, "I've given lectures to colleagues and at universities. I don't know why telling you this is so hard."

Jack said, "You can tell me anything. But maybe I should tell you some things first." He cleared his throat. This wasn't that easy for him to say either.

"You don't have-"

"No," Jack insisted. "I need to say this."

"All right. I'm listening."

"Okay. I'm sorry, David. I'm sorry for making your life hell. I had my reasons and we've talked about them a lot, but I'm sorry. I know now that there just isn't any simple answers, no perfect solution. What I wanted, want, for you is for you to be safe. Nobody shooting at you because you look like a monster. Not going hungry or having no place to rest, no injuries or sickness that you can't afford the medicine for or to see a doctor about. Nobody trying to rape you or beat you up."

"Oh Jack, you shouldn't worry about me." David looked up at him, and his eyes were soft with compassion.

Jack shrugged."Can't help it. Dell Frye was killed when he was his hulk. I worry about you dying. That girl, Annie, the one that said she was psychic, she told me that in one of your futures the Hulk is killed. I don't want that future to be your real one."

He tightened his arms around David, feeling his spine, his ribs. His soft and vulnerable skin.

"You don't get to be safe though. I understand that now. Anything you decide has its drawbacks. You can keep running and try to figure out a cure on your own or with help from those you trust, or you can turn yourself in and see if the government would help you and not just cage you."

"I'm going with option one." David gave him a rueful look.

"The choice is yours; I won't ever try to make it for you again. But I'll help you however I can. And thank you for today. Mick told me he thought if you hadn't testified that the case would have gone to trial. You're always saving people. I love that about you."

David took a deep breath and straightened up, took a step back. "I, Jack, it's okay. We're okay. I don't even mind that you made me into a science fiction character." He grinned at Jack, and Jack felt like his heart had done a flip in his chest. He was too old for this love-struck nonsense. But it seemed like it was too late. The attraction he'd had for David had smoldered for years and now it was as strong as those wildfires that had threatened once to engulf him.

David touched Jack's cheek, ran a finger down the side of his jaw. "I want to go to bed with you. But, I'm falling for you, and that's not fair. To you. I don't want you to think you owe me, or that you have any obligations to me because of the way I am."

David's mouth was so very beautiful, Jack thought. And he wasn't making any sense with it at all.

"What way are you?" He slid David's shirt off him, unbuckled his belt, thumbed open the button of his khakis, pulled his zipper down. David took in a sharp breath.

"I'm. I'm, God, I hate this about myself. I'm needy sometimes."

"What'da ya mean?" Jack let his hand slide up and down David's back.

David said slowly, "Someone is kind to me, treats me like I'm a good person, sees me not just a drifter, a failure, and I'm so grateful. I latch onto them. I make myself a part of their life and then I have to leave and it makes it ten times worse, for me, for them."

Jack made a sympathetic sound.

David continued in a rush. "I try not do it the next time, to be more reserved, hold myself back but then I do bad John Wayne imitations to cheer up a sad little boy, or I get close to a woman, or one of the sweetest guys I've ever met invites me to move in with him at some sort of biker-hippie farm and it all falls apart. Every time, it falls apart. I feel like a hit and run driver, and boy I know how it feels to be hit like that."

Jack looked into David's eyes, and he was far away somewhere.

"David?" He waited until David's eyes were focused on his again. "Why do you think you're hurting those people by sharing what you can with them?"

He waited for David to answer, but instead he saw tears pooling in his eyes.

"David, I've talked to some of them, the ones who felt something for you. Yeah, they miss you. They wish you were still in their lives, but you made them feel better while you were with them. You're easy to love, that's not something that's bad."

He took David's head between his hands and gently kissed him, then put his hands on his shoulders. "You're the one who gets hurt, I see that. You leave your new friends, the kids you've grown to love, the lover or potential lover, and you're the one who's alone. They've got their other friends, their parents. You don't have anyone. But you've got me. You'll always have me. I know all about you; there's no secret to protect from me."

He kissed David again, needy, hungry, wanting to make David forget about his crappy life, make him live in the moment, right here, right now, and let him feel happy.

David's lips were warm, pliant, and he made a soft sound of disappointment when Jack gently ended the kiss.

"Come to bed. Tell me what you like," Jack said softly.

He wanted to get David under the covers - it was September in Chicago and the heat wasn't on yet in his apartment – but not just to keep him physically warm. He flashed on what David had mentioned over the years, about sleeping on benches, in phone booths, on the ground, leaning against buildings. He wanted to take care of David, make him comfortable. He'd had such a rough time.

David smiled at him and Jack thought, "Yeah. You're easy to love."

David said, "I like your hands on me. Okay?" Jack put both of his hands on David's bare biceps and gently walked him backwards until his legs touched the bed.

David was still smiling, but he also looked sort of exhausted now that he was relaxing. He'd jumped on a plane to come here and Jack bet that he hadn't slept at all, then or before he'd left California. David had told him during one of their phone calls that he wasn't much fond of flying anymore. Too many mishaps during flights.

"You're tired. Bet you've got jet lag." He put a hand on David's shoulder and gently pushed him down. David sprawled backwards on the bed, elbows supporting him.

Jack crouched down and touched the medal lying against David's chest. "So you did wear it. I wondered."

"I didn't at first. Not until I believed you about not giving me up."

Jack said, "But you kept it."

"I thought about mailing it to you, but I, well, I just didn't."

"My ma gave it to me before I went to Korea."

David said, "I saw it around your neck when we were on the mountain. I figured it was pretty special to you. You never struck me as the type to wear a lot of jewelry."

"No, I'm not. I wore it because of Ma. She believed St. Christopher would protect me."

"Why did you give it to me?" David asked, looking up into Jack's eyes.

"To keep you safe? I don't know. I'm not a believer, but it felt like the right thing to do."

"Thank you. But you should have it back now. Your mother would want you to keep it." David sat up and started to pull the medal over his head, but Jack caught his hand. David let the medal drop back against his skin.

Jack shook his head. "Ma would be proud of me for giving it to you. She used to tell me, 'John Patrick McGee, God loves a cheerful giver.' She and my father would have loved you, David. I want you to have it, okay?"

David bit his lip. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Wear it and stay safe, all right?" Then Jack knelt down and grabbed David's right cowboy boot. He pulled it off, and then he took off the left one. Slipped off David's socks. David wiggled his toes and Jack chuckled.

"Cowboy boots, eh? Guess you're still a Colorado farm boy at heart."

David laughed. "I guess I am." He stood up, making Jack, still on his knees, scoot back a little. He pushed off his khakis and boxers, wadded them up and tossed them across the room. They barely landed on a chair, but Jack only noticed that out of the corner of his eye because David was naked. Jack put his hands on David's ass, and drew him so close that his belly was against Jack's face. "So you like strawberries. I'll give you as many as you want."

He felt the strong muscles in David's ass, kneaded them a little, and licked the soft skin around David's belly button. Starting a trail of tiny kisses downward, he was rewarded by David's gasps and the feel of his penis, already half hard, thickening as Jack dragged his tongue down its length.

"Do you like that, my mouth on you like that? Do you want me to take you in my mouth?" He had a sudden desire to hear David ask for it, to make him say the words out loud. Would he blush? During their time on the mountain, the awkward sex they'd had then, David had been shy at first. It had been so sweet to make him pant and babble as Jack drove him wild. Jack really wanted that again.

David didn't answer him, just let his hands cup Jack's head, his fingers exploring Jack's hair. Jack licked him again, and put his mouth over the head of David's penis and sucked him gently.

David started breathing hard. His hips jerked forward and Jack let David's dick slip free. "I can't hear you. What do you want me to do with my mouth?"

"You're a terrible tease, Jack McGee." David said, laughing a little, his breath coming harder as Jack sucked him back into his mouth.

Jack decided if he was such a terrible tease then he'd better live up to his reputation, and really went to work on making David lose it.

He'd gotten wonderful, beautiful, begging sounds from David, and then he stopped. He stood up, and David's mouth was making a perfect "O." He had to kiss him.

He did, and then stripped off the rest of his own clothes fast. He pulled David to him and whispered, "You didn't answer my question. I'm a writer, words are my life. I want to hear your words, Davy."

He hadn't meant to say that, to call David that nickname. It had been his wife's name for him, his mother's. Jack wasn't family.

"I want whatever you want to give me, Jack."

"More words."

"Umm, so... I want, I want your mouth around my dick. Please? It feels like heaven." The blush that Jack had hoped for was growing on David's cheeks. "And nobody's called me Davy like that for a long time." David kissed Jack's neck, and the heavy, coiling feel of arousal in Jack's belly intensified.

"It's okay, then? If I do it? Be honest, all right?" Jack took a step back so he could see David's eyes. He'd know if he lied to him, out of kindness.

"I like it." David's eyes were as honest as his John Doe's eyes had been on that mountain. Then a mischievous look crossed his face. "I'll call you Jackie. Jackie O."

Jack smacked him on the butt. "Ohhh, I don't think so. You. Bed. Now."

"Sir, yes, sir." David snapped off, and Jack pulled back the covers.

x x x

Jack rolled over, expecting to find David's warm body, but he only felt cool sheets. He panicked, and sat up in a hurry. He felt his heart rate slow down when he saw David sitting quietly on the floor, cross-legged, his eyes shut and his hands turned up on his knees, middle fingers touching his thumbs.

Jack had seen Molly's yoga students doing similar things, and he laid back down, turning on his side so he could stare at David. What he was doing was some sort of meditation.

He looked comfortable enough, dressed again in boxers and a T-shirt, although his hair was wildly tangled in contrast with the serene expression on his face. Jack smiled smugly; he was responsible for the state of David's hair. The room was really too chilly for what his lover – another thing he felt smug about this morning, being able to call David Banner his lover – was doing, but David had told him some time ago about learning to meditate as a way of controlling his body. He could do it for hours and was trying to train himself to not be bothered by the environment around him. Noise, heat, coldness, pain couldn't penetrate his inner peace, if he was sunk deep into himself.

It was the middle of the morning, fairly late for Jack to be just waking up, but about right for early morning for David. Yesterday afternoon and evening he and David had spent tearing up the sheets. Well, and talking. Taking turns reading to each other. Ordering Chinese and eating it in bed. Being silly, too.

David Banner, brilliant scientist, compassionate doctor, author of groundbreaking research papers, was a real goof when he was relaxed and happy. At one point David had even landed on the floor in a heap of blankets from being a little too enthusiastic about rolling around on the bed. Jack had laughed till he was almost crying at the surprised look on David's face as he looked up at him from the floor.

Jack grinned again, remembering David's atrocious French accent when Jack had demanded more words from him as he was giving him head. David had started a kind of scientific babbling about lovemaking, naming the research Kinsey and Masters and Johnson had done and throwing out terms like plateau and resolution and sex binding hormones

When David was reduced to nonsensical syllables, Jack gave him the mercy stroke. When he'd come, David had gripped Jack's arm so hard that he'd probably left a bruise, but Jack hadn't cared.

And then it had been Jack's turn, and he thanked God for his Davy's medical know-how, because he'd fingered Jack, absolutely nailing his prostrate, and driving him wild with the sensations while he also used oil on Jack's dick, his slick hand teasing him in time to the small thrusts he made inside of Jack.

It was so intense, so intimate, and Jack hadn't had anybody's hands on him for so very long. He'd almost passed out when he came. They'd both slept for a while, and Jack woke up to David lazily tracing triangle patterns on Jack's shoulder. Greek symbols for the elements, David told him. And the last one was for balance. He looked a little shy about saying that. Jack, who amazingly, still had a few brain cells in working order, figured that maybe David was saying there was now balance between them.

He kept that to himself for the moment. He just kissed David and told him he was the cutest nerd he knew.

David had bopped him with a pillow. Jack wasn't sure if that was for calling him cute or a nerd. They'd had a mock wrestling match, then, which had led to a lot of laughing and touching and more sweet times under the blankets.

Jack watched David meditating for a few more minutes before closing his eyes and feeling himself relaxing back into sleep again. In the weeks before the preliminary hearing he hadn't been sleeping well at all, and catching up sounded wonderful. He didn't have anything he had to do today, except write his letter of resignation and hand it over to Mark. Mark had been a good boss to him; he hadn't wanted to run the story on Jack being charged with murder, but he'd been overruled by Steinhauer. Jack owed him a personal resignation, not just a letter dropped in the mail.

Yeah, sounded like a plan. Sleep, shower, eat, write his letter, and if David was done with his Zen stuff, maybe he'd like to go out later with him to celebrate Jack's freedom from tabloid hell.

x x x

Jack had been quiet as he'd showered and gotten dressed. He'd eaten a bowl of cereal, pleased that the milk wasn't spoiled yet, and sipped coffee as he typed up his resignation letter. David was still off in a trance, and Jack was tempted to wave a cup of coffee in front of him, just to see if David's nose would twitch.

He wasn't concerned that things would be awkward between David and him this morning. It wasn't as if he'd picked David up at a bar and didn't know much about him now except for sexual positions he preferred. He and David were friends. Friends with a strange, strange history, but when they didn't know who the other one was, when David had been a homeless amnesiac, they'd just liked each other. They clicked then and they would now, too.

David could have left before Jack woke up, if he was having second thoughts about the two of them, but he hadn't.

Jack knew he wanted to keep seeing David.

Would David want the same thing?

x x x

David opened his eyes, laced his fingers together, palms up and stretched his arms over his head.

"Good morning. I've got some Sugar Smacks and milk, or you know, I think the bread isn't moldy, if you wanted a peanut butter sandwich. Or we could go out to eat," Jack said, a stupid smile breaking out on his face.

David got to his feet gracefully and stretched again, arms wide, and then waggled his finger at Jack. "Sugar Smacks are pure sugar."

"I know. They're great."

"Jack, does the word, 'nutrition' mean anything to you?"

"I've used it in a crossword puzzle before."

David shook his head sadly, but the smile in his eyes and the way his lips kept trying to turn up gave him away.

"You're a funny guy, Jack. I'll stick with peanut butter." He walked over to the counter and took out two slices of bread.

"Coffee's on the stove. I'll heat it back up for you. Peanut butter's in the cupboard over the sink."

"Mmm. Thanks. " He got down the jar and Jack turned on the stove under the percolator, got a knife out of the drawer and handed it to David.

"So, David, this is my own personal Liberation Day. I'm throwing off my chains, claiming my freedom, storming the Bastille."

"You're what?"

"I'm quitting the National Register. I've just got to go see my editor, Mark Roberts, and give him my resignation letter. Mark's a good guy; he's looked out for me, and I want to tell him in person. I've got the letter all ready to go."

He added, in a pretentious tone, "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a celebration of my freedom at a fine restaurant later?"

David's eyebrows scrunched downwards. "Why are you quitting? You've stuck with it for a long time, why now?" He finished making his sandwich and took a bite, chewing slowly as he watched Jack.

Jack shrugged. "I haven't ever liked writing for a tabloid; it was just a way to make the rent until I could do better. You know that, right? I wanted to write the Hulk story, and your story, when I realized that a man was actually the Hulk, partly so that I could get some credit with other papers and go back to writing important stories again. I'm sick to death of astrology, and flying saucers, and movie stars' hair styles and what their dogs' favorite brand of dog food might be."

The coffee started percolating and Jack got out a mug, saw the chip on the edge, and put it back, picked out another one that was in better shape. He poured David a cup and put it on the counter, then grabbed his own mug from the desk and poured himself a cup, too.

David sipped his coffee. He was watching Jack, curiosity in his expression.

"Also, I'm this close to turning green and growing my own set of bushy eyebrows, I'm so mad at the paper for the stories they ran on me and Fletcher."

"I don't blame you one bit," David said.

"After the years I've worked for the rag, you'd think I'd have earned a little consideration. So, this is it. I've finally had it. I'm jumping ship."

"You're a good writer, Jack. I bet you'll get snapped up by another paper."

"I'm not going to apply anywhere. Not here in the Windy City or anywhere else. I'm going to write books and freelance on stories I want to do. I've been – well, you can see for yourself that I'm not spending money on this place – I've been socking away some bucks. I've got enough to get by, until I sell another book or two." He finished his coffee as David watched him, his sandwich forgotten on the counter.

"Jack, do you want to stay in Chicago? You've got friends here, contacts, a life."

"Depends."

"On what?"

"I know we've only slept together a couple of times, but I don't want to go back to just talking to you on the phone. Well, I will, obviously, if you don't want me around, but I'd like to at least be in the same city as you," Jack said.

"With me?"

"I could get my own place, or, if things move in the right direction, maybe we could give living together a shot. I'm no prize, but I'd try my best to make you happy. So, I'd go with you. If you'll have me." Jack felt a little shaky, asking for a future with David like that. But faint heart, blah, blah, blah.

David looked very serious. "Do you want people to know we're together, if we live together, or even if we just date?"

"I would, but I'd go with what feels comfortable to you."

"These are pretty big decisions, Jack. Maybe you should take some time, really consider what you want to do."

"About quitting, nah. I was just waiting to see if I had to go to trial. I thought it would be better if I was employed, for my image. David, my books are selling pretty well. And I liked writing them. I want to do more fiction writing, under my alias, of course. And maybe some non-fiction stuff."

He moved to David, put his arms around him. "You, I've wanted you for a long time, too. And it isn't out of a sense of guilt over what I put you through. That's something separate. But you, my John Doe, I want you in my life. God, I sound like a crappy soap opera character, but I do. But it isn't really about what I want. It's about what you want."

"What I want." David sounded dubious.

"And I think I should give you some time to think about it, if you want a guy like me in your life, sleeping in your bed, probably giving you grief. I'm. Okay, I wasn't going to tell you this yet, but what the hell. I'll lay out my cards. I'm in love with you, Davy."

Jack kissed him, and they just kissed for a long time, standing in his cramped apartment.

David said, "Jack-"

"Don't say anything right now, okay? I sprung this on you and you should take some time, figure out what you want. If you shoot me down, I'll be fine with just being your friend, whether we sleep together again or not. Just, don't think something stupid, like you shouldn't drag me into your problems. I want to be there with you. For you. Remember that, okay. We'll talk about it later."

"All right." David was looking at him the way the Hulk did. With trust. And with a little confusion.

"Hey, I was serious about going out to celebrate. Want to?" Jack asked. David tilted his head a little and looked at Jack, quiet, obviously thinking about what Jack had just spilled his guts about. Finally, he nodded. "Celebrating with you sounds great. Also, I thought I'd do some research while I was in town. There's a group at the University of Chicago's Biological Sciences Division doing some interesting things with gene mapping. They've come up with a fairly rapid method for localizing an unmapped dominant or recessive mutation to a specific chromosome. I'd like to talk to some of them; my latest fake ID should work to get me in the door."

"Okay. I'll drop you off there and go talk to Mark. I'll pick you back up around... seven? Sound good to you?"

David put his hands in his back pockets. "How dressed up do I need to be? I don't have a suit."

"A nice shirt and a tie will be fine. Jeans are okay, too. It's not going to be that fancy, just mostly great food. Hey, help yourself to anything of mine. Most of my shirts might be kinda big on you, but I've got some smaller ones. I'll dig them out. Me casa is your casa, and all."

David smiled at him and finished his coffee, disappeared into the bathroom.

Jack phoned Mark's secretary and had her pencil him in for early this afternoon. He'd miss Mark, and the few other friends that he had here in Chicago, but he'd go with David anywhere in the world, if David asked him.

x x x

They'd ordered appetizers at Allemand's, a Creole restaurant that Mark had recommended to Jack. David was telling him how his afternoon at the University had gone, his expression animated as he explained how the work being done in Chicago could help him speed up his own research.

"You know, you're cute when you're deep into science thinking. Also, that shirt makes your eyes look more blue than gray."

David stopped whatever he was going to say and swallowed. "Are you going to make a habit out of saying things like that?"

"Yep."

He said, resigned, "It's because my face turns red, isn't it? You just want to tease me."

"Nope."

"Carolyn was the last person who talked to me that way. You'd better watch out, Jack McGee. I married her."

"She sounds like a woman of good taste and good judgment."

"Oh, she was. I showed up on her doorstep and she let me stay."

"Were you happy together before she died?" David had talked about his second wife a few times to Jack. They hadn't had very long together before her illness overcame her. Jack had met her briefly. She'd been a tall, beautiful blonde and like David, a genius in her field. Like most of the friends David had made, she wouldn't talk to Jack.

"Yes, we were happy. Life with her was like having strawberries every day."

"Strawberries again?"

"It's, well, I told Carolyn a story I'd read once, about a man who fell over a cliff, barely able to hold onto some roots, which were coming free from the cliff. There were tigers above him, and tigers below him. His situation was hopeless. But growing out of the cliff were wild strawberries and he risked letting go with one hand to pluck them and they were the sweetest things he'd ever tasted. And he said to himself that wasn't he a lucky man, to have such wonderful strawberries to eat."

Jack smiled at him. "Ah, so now you'll take what joy you can, no matter that you're in a bad fix."

"Yes. I don't know what my future holds anymore. Once upon a time, in another life, I did. I thought I'd be a husband and a father and my work would benefit people, help them to be healthier, live better lives."

"David, I'm sorry."

"I thought I had time to experience all the sweet things in life, and I could wait for them. Someday take my wife on a long trip and see the wonders of the world. Have children. Laura and I were going to wait another year before trying to have a baby."

"Yesterday, you said you wanted... So I rate being a strawberry? And being with me is you taking back what you can out of the lousy hand you were dealt?" Jack took a sip of water.

"That's it. And maybe... Jack, remember when we were trapped between the wolves and the wild-fire and—"

"Yeah, vividly. In fact, I remember dangling over a cliff, with wolves below me and my friend trying his damndest to pull me up. Good thing he had some extra muscle he was packing. Saved my life, again." Jack grinned at him, marveling a little how he could now joke about the Hulk, when he'd had nightmares about him for years.

David said intently, "And didn't the time we spent together at night, huddled together, proving to each other that we were still alive by giving each other pleasure, didn't that make it something wondrous and special?"

"You didn't hear me complaining, did you?"

"That's choosing strawberries. And I'm going to keep right on doing it. Come with me to California, Jack."

"You're serious?"

David nodded. "I've got a small apartment, just a one bedroom, really, but you don't have a lot of things, and I've learned not to accumulate belongings. We'll pack up your books, and whatever clothes you want to bring, and your typewriter."

"You think it's safe for you to go back to your job?"

"I called a colleague this afternoon, to just check in. Everything seems normal, the police haven't been there asking for me, or for David Banner."

"How do you know your buddy would know to tell you that?"

"He's the biggest gossip in the place. He'd have told me."

"You know, I could kiss you right now, Davy. And I'm coming along. For as long as you want me there, okay?"

"I do. When do you want to leave?"

"Do you need to go talk with more scientists?"

"I could use another day."

"And I could use a day to pack and sort things, talk to my landlady, go to the bank. Let's plan on leaving the day after tomorrow."

David's whole face lit up, and Jack felt his own face almost hurting, he was grinning so hard.

David said, "What's that the hippies say? From that Grateful Dead song?"

"You hang out with hippies, David?"

"I have. Good people, at least the ones I've met. They'll usually pick me up when I'm hitchhiking. I've traveled with migrant workers, too. Picked onions, beans, grapes, lettuce. Been a gardener. Worked construction, lots of jobs where my back was more important than my brain."

"People told me that you were a hard worker."

"My dad taught me it was important to do a good job on whatever you turned your hand to, and I was a farm kid. We learn early to do chores, to work hard."

"I'm glad I got to meet him. You know, you inherited his hair."

David nodded. "Yeah. Someday I'll startle myself when I look in the mirror and see Dad's bush of gray hair. And I'm glad you got to meet him and Helen and the baby. What about your family? I know your dad passed away. And your mother?"

"Ma too. And my two uncles. It's just me now, the last of the St. Louis McGees."

David smiled understandingly at him, and even though those deaths were long past for him, he felt comforted.

David took a sip of water, and held the glass in his hand, staring at it. Then he clicked his tongue. "That song, what was it... Oh, I got it. What a Long Strange Trip It's Been.

"Yeah. And we're not done yet. Not until you've figured out how to keep the Hulk from popping back out. Not that he's a bad guy, you know."

"You sound almost like you're fond of him."

"He's you. Of course I'm fond of him. Well, I am now. He's saved my life, and more than once. But I had nightmares about him for a long time, until I realized he was more bark than bite, and that he was pulling his punches when it came to dealing with puny humans. Rough on buildings, though. And he doesn't do well with machinery or electronics. He, you, don't seem to understand it, and you just start smashing. God, wouldn't you like to know what's going on in the Hulk's brain when you're him?"

"Oh, yes. But I'd like it even more if he never showed up again."

"Stella was right about him, though. He is beautiful to watch."

David rolled his eyes.

"So are you."

Jack was rewarded by seeing David's cheeks flush with color again, but they were both distracted when the server brought their oysters en brochette to the table. They smelled heavenly.

David lifted his wine glass. "Umm, to your new-found freedom. May you never have to write about astrology conventions or visions of Jesus on a moldy wall ever again."

Jack picked up his own glass. "And to strawberries."

x x x

"Let's take a walk down to Navy Pier. There shouldn't be many tourists there this time of night and we can take a look at the city lights," Jack said, then forked his last bite of the peach cobbler he and David were sharing into his mouth.

"Okay." David looked mellow, and they'd talked about everything – places to see on the trip to California, David's job, Jack's talk with Mark this afternoon - in between exchanging bites of each others' food, David's blackened salmon with dirty rice, Jack's gumbo and jambalaya.

They finished the bottle of wine and Jack paid, leaving a bigger than usual tip for their server. He felt good tonight and didn't mind spreading the cheer around. They walked to his car and retrieved a heavier spare jacket for David. The one he'd brought for himself was warm enough to keep the wind off Lake Michigan from chilling him.

It felt easy and natural to walk with David the mile and a half to the Pier, and before they had reached the gigantic ferris wheel, their hands had tangled together. Jack noticed one couple looking at them, and the man had wrinkled up his face in disgust as they passed each other.

David noticed, too. His hand in Jack's tightened and a wary look crossed his face.

"It bothers you, to see people looking at you, at us, like that guy just did." Jack thought they might as well hash out just how out David wanted to be.

"Not that he disapproves. I don't care what he or anybody else thinks. I used to, but it doesn't seem important any longer. Life's short, people should do what makes them feel happy."

"David, you were leery just then. Look, we can be as out as you want. If that means we hold hands in public, okay. If it means we only do things like that at home, that's all right with me."

"Mmm. No, well, yes, I was on guard. But not because he didn't like to see two men holding hands. I was watching him to see if he was going to try to attack us. Jack, I have to be, well, vigilant. I'll change if I'm attacked and I can't control the pain. Frankly, if I can run from a fight, I'll do it. Unless somebody else is being hurt, or I'm trapped." David stopped walking and tugged Jack so he faced him.

David said, "I don't want to hide what I feel about you. But I can't afford to be in fights, either. But this is a public place, well-lit, and I don't want to stop holding hands. He's moved on, anyway."

"Okay. We'll just take it one step at a time. Keep our eyes peeled for troublemakers." He tugged at David's hand and they headed further down the pier. It was a beautiful night, not too cold, or windy, and the lights of the city looked surreal from the pier. David pointed at one of the tourist trap joints, a place where you could have your picture taken on the pier. "I did that kind of job for a while. I was pretty good at the photography, but terrible with the sales part. I had a hard time pressuring people to buy the photos."

"Did you smile at them? Because I bet you sold some with just that smile of yours."

David rolled his eyes again, but he seemed more relaxed. Good.

David brought Jack's hand up and kissed it. "C'mon, you sweet-talker. Let's walk all the way to the end of the pier, and enjoy the view."

x x x

The next day was a busy one for Jack. He closed out his bank account, packed, sorted clothes, sold his bed and dressers and desk to other tenants. He gave his TV and the food in his cupboards and in the refrigerator to the family two doors down. He made arrangements to drop off the key with his landlady the next morning, and in the evening went to pick David up from the IIT Research Institute. David had met with a scientist studying "the mechanism of radiation effects on DNA synthesis" there and was buzzing with ideas that Jack couldn't begin to understand, but he liked hearing David talk about them anyway.

They stopped at a place in Jack's neighborhood and ate a deep dish pizza before returning to the apartment for their last night in Chicago, a couple of slices left for a quick morning meal before they loaded up Jack's car and headed west.

Jack had bought a copy of the National Register before leaving Uncle Gitano's Pizza. He sat down on the bed, the last of the furniture in his apartment, and unfolded the paper. David kicked off his shoes, climbed on the bed beside him, and stretched out, using pillows as a backrest.

"Can I have the crossword puzzle, please?" he asked, and took a pen out of his shirt pocket.

Jack handed him the entertainment page. "Knock yourself out." He continued to search through the paper, scanning each page slowly, as David began filling in the puzzle.

"Ah, finally." He folded the paper and handed it to David. "In the finest of tabloid fashion, the Register has reluctantly done a followup story on my prelim. Since the case was dropped, I get two lines about it on the very last page."

"They don't mention my name, do they?"

"No. Steinhauer didn't even want to run that the case was dropped, but Mark insisted. Of course, nobody will remember that. They'll remember the front page spreads of the feud Fletcher and I supposedly had with each other."

"Going to take the paper with us tomorrow, as a souvenir?"

Jack shuddered. "Hell, no." He stood and tossed the paper in the trash can and started undressing.

"What month was Luke and Laura's wedding?"

"Do you really care?"

"Do you really know?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My head is stuffed with ridiculous things like that from working at the Register."

David moved off the bed, dropping his section in the trash, too. He pulled Jack's belt free and kissed him. "I think I can find something better to do than fill in the blanks on General Hospital trivia."

x x x

Jack woke up and stretched in bed. He felt great. David had given him a blow job last night, and despite it being David's first time and sometimes awkward as he figured out the mechanics, it had been wonderful.

David was still asleep, curled on his side. Jack debated getting up and taking a shower, then lugging boxes down to his car, but instead decided to see if he could get David hot and bothered without waking him up. David was naked so that made it easy.

He touched him slowly, just wanting to arouse him, and David started squirming. His eyes opened and closed a few times before he focused hazily on Jack.

"Mmm. Did I say you could wake me like this?" He sounded a little stern, a little disapproving, but the upward curve of his lips told another story.

"Yes, you did. Last night, remember? I took notes. But I can stop if you don't want me to continue..." He let his hand drop away, but David grabbed it and placed it back. David's body felt warm, balls heavy, dick thickening, and the slow movements Jack made had David bucking up against his hand, trying to increase the friction between them.

When David started biting his lip, Jack increased his speed, tightened his hand around David's full, hard dick and David stiffened and came, eyes shut, a prayer of pleading sounds spilling from him.

He smiled lazily at Jack, and then made a face when Jack wiped his hand clean in between David's thighs.

Jack, amused, asked, "I want to do something. Will you let me? I'll get you even more messy."

David yawned. "I trust you. What have you got in mind?"

Jack reached down and grabbed the oil bottle from the floor. He pushed the covers back so that David was free of them and then started squirting and rubbing oil on David's inner thighs. David watched him, bemused.

"Ever hear of frottage?"

"Wasn't that something ancient Greeks did?"

"Think so. A guy I met at a bar near Oak Street Beach showed me." He closed the bottle and laid it within reach on the bed. He rolled on top of David and told him, after he'd placed his erection in between David's slippery thighs. "Tighten up on me." David did. "Ah, Jesus, you feel really good." He started thrusting in between David's legs.

"God, you feel great." He was brushing David's balls with his movements and he felt David's penis against his belly. It was probably too soon for David to come again, but this would keep the old home fires burning till David could get hard.

Then Jack stopped thinking about much at all.

x x x

They'd both gone back to sleep after the morning's lovemaking, so they didn't get packed as fast as they'd planned. Jack told David he had one last stop to make before they headed west to California.

Jack and David wrestled his mattress out into the hallway, where it would be picked up by its new owner. "My last paycheck. Mark said he'd have it ready at the front desk. It won't take but a minute for me to grab it."

"Okay. I'll just stay in the car, though."

Finally, the car was packed, pizza eaten, the counters wiped, trash dumped, and Jack dropped the key in his landlady's mail box. Jack took one last look at the building he'd called home for the last eight years and decided he really wasn't going to miss it at all.

He found a spot on the street to park a little ways down from the Register and walked quickly into the building. He gave a careless wave to Flora at the front desk as he approached her.

"Hello, Jack McGee. Remember me?"

"Funny, Jack. It's only been a day or so since you quit. Ah, Mark Roberts said when you came by this morning for me to tell you to sit tight. He wants to talk to you. Said it was important."

She handed him an envelope and Jack could tell it was cash. Huh. Mark must have decided that it would be easier for Jack that way, since he'd mentioned he was closing his accounts.

Flora called up to Mark's office, then went back to flipping through People magazine. Jack had read that issue on Monday, the day before his prelim on the twentieth. Mark Frankel had done a nice job with the article about ex-congressman Robert Bauman's struggles to accept being homosexual. It had been kind of freeing for the guy to just admit that he liked men. Jack felt the same way.

He decided to touch base with the editors at People. Maybe he could do some freelance work for them, write stories that had a lot more social relevance than what he'd been forced to churn out for the Register.

He tucked the envelope into his jacket and went to stand by the windows, hands in his pockets, watching people walking up and down the street. He could see his car, and everything looked fine. He'd left David sitting quietly in the passenger seat reading a book snatched from Jack's shelves for the trip. He idly speculated about what Mark wanted to talk about that hadn't been covered on Wednesday. Nothing came to mind, though. Mark had offered to be a reference for Jack and told him to call him when he settled in a place. Jack hadn't mentioned anything about David, just that he was ready to do something different with his life and his career.

He started daydreaming about what his next book should be about, when he felt his arm taken in a firm hold.

"Jack, walk with me." Mark tugged him toward the door and Jack wondered what the hell was going on. Mark was a laid back kind of guy, usually. Something big must be up. He felt his gut lurch.

"What's this about, Mark?"

Mark waited until they were outside the building. "I see your car. I'll walk you to it."

"That's all right. Just, what's going on?"

Mark untucked a paper from under his arm and handed it to Jack. It was the Limelite.

"Checking out the competition, Mark?"

Mark gave him the look that meant Jack needed to stop stomping on Mark's last nerve. "This is today's paper. Read the story at the bottom of the first page. Joe Arnold wrote it." Arnold had jumped over to the Limelite after Jack had exposed him for the unprincipled hack that he was for the scams he'd done on restaurants like Bruno's, in order to boost his career.

Jack unfolded the paper and moved to stand next to the wall, out of the way of people walking past.

David's face and his own, in separate photographs, jumped out at him. He scanned the headline. "Man Declared Dead Six Years Ago Identified as the Hulk."

He read through the first part of the article quickly. Stella Verdugo had gone to the Limelite, stating that the National Register had refused to investigate her claim that the man who changes into the Hulk had testified for Jack McGee at the preliminary hearing regarding murder charges in the death of Emerson Fletcher.

He looked at Mark, who shrugged. "I tried to warn you this morning but your phone was disconnected. That woman called me, and I said we'd look into it, to appease her. She was angling for the old reward, and was quite put out when I told her we wouldn't pay her for the Hulk's name. I guess when she didn't see the story the next day, she called the Limelite. Joe would have jumped at the chance to smear your name all over their paper."

Jack, feeling as numb as he had in the courtroom, made himself read the rest of the article. Damn Stella's memory anyway. "I knew I'd seen that handsome gentleman Mr. McGee was talking to after court, and I finally remembered. Mr. Fletcher, bless his soul, had said his name was Doctor David Banner, after I pointed him out as the man I'd seen change into the Hulk. I'd forgotten that until I saw his face and the nice man in charge of court records told me David Banner testified for Mr. McGee."

Another witness, a deputy handling security at the courthouse, had spoken to the Limelite anonymously upon being shown David Banner's and Jack McGee's photos. "Yeah, I remember those two. It looked like they were having an argument, and I thought I might have to go over there, tell them to can it, but then they started kissing instead. I kept an eye on them, in case the PDA got out of hand, but they behaved themselves."

The article was continued on the third page, and recapped David Banner's career and supposed death in a lab fire. It also covered Jack McGee's obsession with the Hulk and John Doe, the man who changed into the Hulk. Joe had written that the search for John Doe had driven the National Register reporter for years, until last year when the story had been dropped.

Arnold had left the readers reasonably convinced that Jack had, in fact, discovered who the Hulk really was some time ago. Instead of writing the story he'd been promising readers for years, he'd become homosexual lovers with the man.

Jack folded the paper and looked at Mark. "Aren't you going to ask if it's true?" Mark snorted. "I know it's true. I knew as soon as I got the write-up on your court case. Who do you think took out Doctor Banner's name?"

"Mark..."

"Jack, after hearing you go on about your obsession for years, I recognized who he was. It didn't take a genius to figure out then that he was your John Doe and hadn't died in that lab fire. And you've been in love with your John Doe since you two were on that mountain. I know you tried to hide that, probably even from yourself, but you gave it away a hundred different times."

"I did?"

"Jack, I've never seen you so driven about anything as when that pyscho hunter went after your John Doe to kill him."

"So when I let you talk me out doing any more Hulk stories, you were just playing along?" Jack crossed his arms and tucked his hands in tight. He'd had no idea he'd been so transparent to Mark.

Mark's thick eyebrows hiked upwards. "Sure I played along. Jack, did you think I was joking all those times I suggested you talk to a headshrinker about being so obsessed with the Hulk?"

"Ahhh, Mark. No, I didn't think you meant it."

"I thought it was a good thing for you to drop the story and I figured it was because you'd realized who John Doe really was. You were different after you came back from the Banner funerals, so I thought your plan had worked. You found him when he came to the funerals, but you decided to let him go, didn't you?"

"I promised him I wouldn't do the story. Mark, it was my fault he became a fugitive. I insisted to the cops that it was the Hulk who was responsible for the deaths in the lab fire. I was wrong. David, the Hulk, tried to save Elaina Marks."

Mark raised his eyebrows again. "Apparently you're forgiven, since he put himself on the line to testify as your alibi, and he seems fine with kissing you."

"We became friends again, after he saw I was serious about not doing the story, but I didn't ask him to come to the preliminary hearing. He did that on his own, and it was the first time I'd seen him since his father's and sister's funerals. We, ah, well..." Jack floundered to a stop, not sure how much Mark wanted to know about him and David.

"Mazel Tov. But Jack, Stella Verdugo's blabbing his secret to the Limelite isn't your only problem. I received a call from the Army this morning."

"The Army?"

"Yes. They wanted to talk to you, and when I told them you weren't employed any longer here, they wanted your address. I told them you'd moved, and I didn't have one. The Major I talked to said he was sending some of his men to comb through our morgue for every story you'd ever done on the Hulk. I thought you should know."

Jack felt his stomach drop. "Mark, David's sure that they want to do experiments on him, not cure him. It's one of the reasons he's stayed in hiding. He's afraid that if he's captured they'll want to reproduce the accident that made him into the Hulk."

"You'd better tell him then. That's him in your car, right?"

"Yes. We're leaving Chicago."

"Jack, if they're serious about finding you, they'll be looking for your car."

"Right. It's okay, I know a guy who can help with that. Mark, you've been a great friend and a good editor. Thank you. And thank you for killing the story."

He shook Mark's hand, and then Mark drew him into a hug.

Mark said, stepping back from Jack, "When Steinhauer finds out we were scooped by the Limelite, he's going to blow his top. I won't be able to deflect any future stories on the Hulk or you."

"I know. Besides, he's been less than fond of me since Patty and I went out a few times."

"I told you dating the boss's daughter was a bad move. So is going on the run with a fugitive. Sure you don't want to just stay here and weather this storm? The Army might question you, but that's all they can do."

"I'm serious about David. I want to be with him. He's a good man, Mark, and he makes me be a better person."

"Then good luck. I've got to get back inside before a search party comes looking for me. Take care, Jack."

He smiled, squeezed Jack's arm and walked away. Jack watched him enter the building, and then he noticed three men in army uniforms walking down the sidewalk opposite to where he was standing.

He flattened himself against the wall, and watched, his heart beating faster, as they entered the Register.

This was what David lived with all the time, this fear of being found out. And now, it was going to be his life, too. Only, he could walk away from it, he had that choice.

David didn't have a choice.

He looked over at his car and saw that David was watching him. Jack gave him a little wave and, looking to make sure nobody was paying any attention to him, he walked swiftly back to David, feeling a pang that he'd have to sell his car. Ricky Sweeney would give him a decent price for his Comet GT. He'd pay in cash, once Jack hinted that he had some gambling debts to pay off right away, and that it would be better not to have any records from bank transactions.

He got in the car and started the engine. He pulled out and took a left at the next corner, to head over to Ricky's place.

David was staring at him, and then that resigned look settled on his face again. Jack reached over and grabbed David's hand, steering with his left.

"Don't you look that way, David Banner. Yes, we've got trouble, but you're not alone anymore, understand? And save the speech I know you'll want to give, that I should let you go off by yourself. If you try to sneak off and leave me behind, I'll just follow you again. And you know I can do it."

"Jack, you... okay." He smiled ruefully at him. "I don't want bloodhound McGee on my trail again. But, what's happened? I could tell by the look on your face that it's not good."

"Stella happened. She remembered that Fletcher slipped up and said your name in her hearing. Probably when he first spotted you, I'm betting. Mark, he was a pal and he tried to scuttle the story when she called him about recognizing you, but Stella went to the Limelite instead. You know them?"

"Another tabloid."

"Yes, and they're the paper that paid La Fronte to kill you."

"Oh, right."

"I wrote about that but maybe you didn't get a chance to read it. Also, the Army has caught on and is deep in the morgue at the Register now, collecting all my old Hulk stories. Mark said they're looking for me. We're going to sell the car to a guy I know, and he'll give me cash. Then I don't know. Should we grab a bus, or just hitchhike?"

He let go of David's hand and handed him the paper. "Story's on the bottom of the first page."

David sighed when he spotted their pictures and read the headline. "I guess it's a gamble about going back to my job. Jack, the Limelite doesn't have much of a circulation in California. I've, uh, become pretty familiar with tabloids since the first time you wrote about the Hulk. How likely is it that more mainstream papers would pick up the story?"

"In the past, I'd say not at all. But this time, your name's on record because you testified for me, and people can confirm that it was you in court. The fact that you've been supposedly dead all these years is intriguing, so yeah, other papers with a better reputation might run something. What do you want to do about your job at the Joshua..."

"The Joshua-Lambert Institute."

"Yeah."

David bit his lip. "The gamma transponder could reverse the radiation changes made to my body, but it's nowhere near being finished."

"Can they do it without you?"

"Without trying to brag or anything, if I'm not there to guide the research, I'm not sure the project will be successful. I guess that until we find out for sure that I'm compromised there, that I should go back and hope that nobody connects David Banion with David Banner."

"You going to talk to your informant again?"

"Mm-hm. I'll call when we get to Los Angeles, talk to Anton again. If the Army or reporters have come to the Institute, he'll be bursting to tell me."

"And if they do know? How do you feel about Costa Rica? Get out of US territory. Drink rum on the beach."

David's eyes looked less wary, less haunted. He smiled at Jack and slapped his hand on Jack's thigh.

"I guess we'll see. Right now, let's dump your car and I think we'd better hitchhike. Too many chances that people on a bus leaving from Chicago might have seen the paper. We can mail your things to my apartment, if you want. I had the post office hold my mail, so if my cover is blown, we can just pick them up there."

David's expression turned serious again. "Jack, are you really sure this is how you want to live your life? Never knowing when you'll have to drop everything and leave behind people you've learned to care for, avoiding the cops, and the rest of what goes along with this kind of existence? I won't blame you if you want to go your own way, and if you wanted, I'd try to come by sometimes to see you. If you want."

Jack skidded the car into a couple of parking spaces and turned off the engine.

He put an arm around David and said, "Here's my answer."

He kissed David, demanding, hungry, insatiable. David was panting a little when he let him go and his eyes, God, his eyes were huge.

Jack said, "My father always told me that home is where there's love. I'm sticking with you, got it? Thick and thin, better or worse, ups and downs, I'm with you. Do you want that, David? And don't you tell me what you think would be better for me. I can tell when people are lying."

Jack saw the start of tears in David's beautiful eyes, but they didn't fall. David said softly, "I should lie to you. But like you told me once, I'm lousy at it. People are always figuring out eventually that I'm not what I seem. They think I'm mysterious or in trouble. Well, the trouble part is right. But you've had six years to see what kind of trouble I can be, and I'm so tired of not getting what I want, just little snatches here or there of a real life."

David took Jack's hand. He laughed a little, his eyes still shining with unshed tears.

"So I'll stick with you, John Patrick McGee. Through the ups and downs I know we'll have, through thick and thin, and God, I hope things get better, but if they don't then we'll take on whatever goes worse for us together."

David pulled Jack closer and kissed him, and it was a promise and a pledge and David's lips felt so warm and soft and tasted as sweet as strawberries.

x x x

The bus had once carried hordes of screaming school kids. In its new reincarnation, it was boldly painted with a jungle scene with huge tropical flowers on one side and a beach scene with waves crashing and the moon overhead on the other. The driver pulled into a gas station off Interstate 10 in Los Angeles and most of the denizens spilled out, stretching and laughing, and heading for the bathrooms and buying snacks. They were a motley crew, Jack thought. He knew that constant smell from the back of the bus had been marijuana, but they were a nice bunch of kids, even if half of them were serious potheads.

David was still in his seat behind him, talking to Moonchild, AKA Denise, a pregnant young woman who was going to a commune near Los Angeles. After she and the rest of the hippies who'd picked them up in Chicago went to a Jerry Garcia concert on October first, that is.

They'd been traveling with these Deadheads for a week, but they were getting off the bus here. David was going to call his job, talk to Anton and see if it was safe for him to return to work. Jack had bought mainstream papers wherever they'd stopped and had read a couple of articles with David's picture and a small story about his surfacing after being declared dead so many years ago. None of them mentioned that he was the Hulk. Well, the Register and the Limelite had gone to town about it. But even they hadn't written anything in the last two days.

Jack grabbed their shared bag and joined the others milling around in the parking lot. River came over and gave him a hug. "Hey man, good traveling with you. Thanks for throwing in on the gas money."

"Yeah, well, have fun at your concert. Don't get busted, okay?"

"I'm with you on that. Man, jail is such a drag."

Jack nodded. The boy had that right.

"You and David take care. Hey, did I tell you my brother is gay?"

"Is that so."

It was funny how people felt the need to tell him about their gay relatives and gay or lesbian friends.

David helped Moonchild out of the bus and kissed her on the cheek. Their fellow travelers gravitated towards him and started saying goodbye with hugs and kisses. David caught Jack's eye and Jack walked over to the group. He said his own goodbyes, then he took David's hand and they walked away from the group.

They found a pay phone on the edge of the parking lot, and waited for the woman using it to finish her call. She didn't look to be in any sort of a hurry.

David dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged. He closed his eyes and started taking deep slow breaths. Jack knew he was preparing himself for bad news.

Jack noticed that some of David's shirt buttons had come undone, exposing more of David's chest than he normally showed. David was sexy like that, and the best part was that he wasn't even aware of it. If Jack said anything, he knew that David would look down in surprise, and then button his shirt.

They'd hadn't done much on the trip out to the West coast; they'd had no real privacy since everybody slept on the bus or next to the bus when they'd pulled into campgrounds. He'd slipped his hand inside David's shirt a few times to tease him, and they'd slept close to each other. During the campfires they'd had, David had sat between Jack's legs and leaned against him, Jack's arms around him. They listened to the music and watched the kids pass joints around the circle to each other.

Late one night he and David had stayed at the campfire after the kids had all gone back on the bus or had crawled into sleeping bags away from the fire. Jack had gotten out his Hulk file from David's bag, and the two of them had burned it, paper by paper, watching the flames consume the stories and photos of the Hulk. They did it partly for security, but mostly as a ritual, saying goodbye to the past. They didn't know where the future would take them, but they would take what joy they could from the present. They'd sat together afterwards, David's arms around him. Watching the fire burn down to coals, they remembered campfires on a mountain where they'd first given each other pleasure amidst their struggle to survive.

x x x

The kids piled back on the bus. Some of them hung out the windows and waved goodbye to Jack and David, and the driver saluted them with the horn as the bus pulled back on the road.

Jack wondered if he could work this experience into a story. Ken Kesey and Tom Wolfe had done it with the Merry Pranksters' epic bus trips but it wasn't the sixties anymore. Still, he'd met some characters on the bus, and maybe he'd borrow Willie Joe's dreadlocks or the way Shana had played the guitar and sang old folksongs in the evenings.

The woman hung up the phone and stomped away, fighting tears, her face red. David, if he'd seen her, might have asked her if there was something he could do to help. Jack was content to let her go, but because he knew David would do it, he asked her if she was okay, as she walked past him to the cars.

She stopped, startled, and wiped her eyes. "No. But, thanks." She gave him a tremulous smile, got into her car, and waved goodbye to him.

Another story to be told. The world was full of them. And now the next chapter of his and David's story was waiting to unfold.

He dug a couple of quarters out of his pocket and crouched down next to David.

"Davy. Time to call."

David opened his eyes and breathed out a deep sigh. Jack stood up and offered his hand; David grabbed it and pulled himself up.

They walked over to the payphone and Jack gave him the quarters. David had so much to lose if his identity was known at the Institute. The gadget he was designing was his best hope to keep the Hulk from ever emerging again. Jack doubted that the rest of the team would be able to make it work without David's quiet guidance.

David gave him an uncertain, rueful look, rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the phone booth.

Jack touched his arm. "Wait."

He took David's hand, closed it around the quarters, and kissed his fingers.

He said, "For luck."

David's mouth quirked up in a wistful, skeptical smile and he dropped the first quarter into the slot.

x x x

The End.

Story Notes:

The title is taken from Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe