From the Journal of Dennis Gant:

"I can't believe that I'm now a doctor. An honest-to-God, bona
fide physician. But, it's true. My day began with an early morning
breakfast with Dr. Peter Benton, the surgeon who is leading the "Blue
Team" to which I have been assigned. Met the other interns, heard
some horror stories about Benton. Didn't believe them until he
actually walked into the room. He's strict, but Daddy says that
strict is good - we all need discipline in our lives if we want to
get ahead. We have to pace ourselves if we want to be the winners.
The rest of the Blue Team seem like a decent bunch of guys - well,
there is a woman, too - Leung. The others are Edson, Dixon and
Carter. Benton really laid Carter low. Assigned him the worst detail
for our first day. I felt sorry for him, especially when I found out
that he's been a student of Benton's since his third year of med school.
Is he crazy? I arrived early for my shift - good thing too, because
Carter was swamped in the ER. I helped him out and he seemed really
grateful. I think I have found my first friend here in Chicago."


"Hey, Dennis, need a hand?" John Carter leaned into the exam room,
holding onto the doorjamb with both hands. Dennis looked up sharply,
waiting to see if John was going to fall into the room. The nurses
and doctors in the Emergency Room had shared a lot of stories about
John Carter and the special knack that he had for being ungraceful.
A sudden thought raced through Dennis' brain and he shook his head,
wanting to chase away the idea that John Carter would look especially
graceful when naked.

"So, you don't need any help?" John asked.

"Actually, I'm expecting some labs. They're late, as usual. Benton
will bite my head off if they aren't here by the time he gets back."

"Say no more. I'm already there."

"Thanks, John."

Dennis returned his attention to the arm gash that he was suturing on
a sixty-year-old woman. She smiled warmly at him.

"I do so like to see people helping people. He must be a good friend
of yours, right?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is. We help each other out as much as we can. It
does make things easier around here."

"I would imagine it does. The world would be a much nicer place if
more people helped each other instead of pulling each other down, don't
you agree, Dr. Gant?"

Dennis smiled, "I most certainly do, Mrs. McKenzie. I most certainly
do."

John returned shortly thereafter, delivering the lab results to Dennis
a mere two minutes before Benton arrived, screaming for them. Dennis
sent a short prayer to Heaven, thanking God for letting him find a
true friend at County. He had already discovered that he couldn't
trust Dale Edson. Dixon was cooperative, but he didn't go out of his
way. Leung helped out, but only up to a point. John was the only
one that he felt comfortable with, despite the frequency of his
indecent thoughts regarding his fellow intern.


From the Journal of Dennis Gant

"What a day! I cannot believe what John pulled today. He was so
desperate to get into surgery - he hasn't set foot in the OR since we
began our internships - that he lied in order to get into an operating
room. Anspaugh saw the fake surgery posted, a rare procedure that he
wanted to observe. Imagine his shock and anger to walk into Benton's
OR and find that Benton was removing a benign tumor instead. John
readily took the blame. I discovered that when he's upset, extremely
upset, he gets violently ill. I have never seen someone throw up that
much. I finally talked him into taking compazine, to control the
nausea, because we still had to do rounds. Poor guy experienced
one side effect - muscle contractions of the neck. Anspaugh was
merciless with him, Benton actually looked puzzled.

Then John's day got worse. He got down to the ER and discovered
one of his neighbors there, being treated for smoke inhalation from
a fire. Turns out the biddy burnt down the entire apartment building.
Once more into the bathroom for John. He lost everything he owned in
one fell sweep. "


Dennis got out of the Jeep and walked around to the sidewalk where
John stood staring at the lonely remains of the three story building.

"Man, she wasn't lying when she said it burned down, was she?"
Dennis asked as he surveyed the damage.

"No." John ducked under the yellow tape that the fire department
had so thoughtfully wrapped around the charred studs. There had to
be something left of his stuff. Something remaining to show he had
lived there. Anything. It was getting dark and much more difficult
to see anything in the ashes. He found a few odd things - a "Field
and Stream" magazine, its cover untouched by the flames, sitting on
top of a burned book. But nothing from his past. No photographs of
his family. No mementos. Nothing. John angrily kicked at an oxygen
tank. One of Betty's no doubt, he thought. She had been so stupid
to be on oxygen and smoke cigarettes at the same time. She deserved
to be burnt out. What had he and the others done to deserve this
fate?

"John? Come on out of there. The place is condemned, man. It's
not safe."

"Just give me another minute, okay?"

"Sure." Dennis watched as John sifted through more debris, knowing
that he wouldn't find anything. He wondered where John was going to
stay tonight, he could certainly offer him the spare room in his
place. He had rented his two-bedroom apartment on a gut reaction
to the place. It wasn't far from the hospital, it wasn't in a bad
part of town, and it had a fireplace. That had been the main feature
he had liked - he had heard horror stories about winters in Chicago
and he was looking forward to sitting in front of his gas fireplace
this winter, a beer in his hand, warm and cozy as he watched the snow
fall through the windows that flanked the fireplace. The rent was
high, but his parents were sending him money to help him out until
he could get a savings account started with his pay as an intern.

John walked out of the wreckage of the building, soot on his face
and hands, his eyes bleak. "It's all gone, Dennis. All of it."

"I know." Dennis pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wanting to
clean John's face with it himself. Instead, he handed it to John,
pointing out the areas that were blackened. As he watched John wipe
his face, his mind flashed back to that morning, when he was giving
John the compazine. He had injected it into the upper right quadrant
of John's buttocks. So white, smooth and firm. His left hand had
lightly brushed against John's skin and a thrill had run through him
then. Luckily, Benton had chosen that moment to walk into the locker
room because Dennis didn't know what he might have done next. His
thoughts regarding John were beginning to excite him and frighten
him at the same time. He valued John's friendship, but he was now
dreaming about John. Sometimes those dreams included the two of them
reclined on the floor of his apartment, no light except for what was
coming from the fire. As snow fell outside, he kissed John, an
excitement running through him as he tasted the other man and John's
tongue sought entrance into his mouth. Then the kiss would end and
as he pulled away from John, he would hear John whisper his name.

"Dennis?"

Dennis blinked hard, bringing himself back to the reality of the
moment. He wasn't in his apartment with John Carter in his arms.
He was standing on a Chicago sidewalk in front of a burned out and
condemned building.

"What are you going to do, John? Do you have a place to stay?"

"I'm from here, remember? I can stay at my parent's house. They're
out of the country, so they won't notice. Not that they would notice
if they were in town. It's a big house, and it's easy to get lost
in it."

"Well, we should get going. You still need to buy some clothes. I
think the staff might notice if you keep showing up for work in the
same clothing day after day."

"Yeah. Are you sure that you don't mind coming with me?"

"I didn't have anything better to do."

"I thought you were expecting a call from Monique tonight?"

"I am. But, I was expecting one from her last night, and she couldn't
be bothered to call. So, if I miss her call because I need to help out
my best friend, then I miss her call."

John suddenly grinned, "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean that. If the girl wants to play games with me, then..."

"No, not that part. The part about me being your best friend. Do
you mean that?"

"Yeah, John. I mean that."

"Thanks, Dennis." John was still grinning and Dennis felt a momentary
pang of pity for John if something as simple as that made him so happy.
It briefly occurred to him that John must be lonely, but he quickly
pushed that thought aside. John was bright, funny, and handsome. He
certainly couldn't be lacking for friends.

Dennis smiled, "Let's get this shopping over with. But, I think that
before you go into any stores, we should find a place where you can wash
up. I don't think they'll want you touching the merchandise with soot
covered hands."

John looked down at his hands. In the pale light from the street
lamp, he could see that Dennis was right. "I can stop at a gas
station, or a fast food place. I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Yeah." They got back in John's Jeep and drove off in search of
food and clothing.

After a quick meal of burgers, shakes and fries, John shocked the
pants off of Dennis by taking him to some of the nicest men's clothing
stores he had ever been in. When John had first asked him to go
shopping with him, he had envisioned a run through a local mall. He
had not envisioned this. He had also not envisioned watching John buy
over a thousand dollars worth of shirts without batting an eye. No
fashionable brand names there. Just well made and expensive shirts.
Although, since John had spent so much money on the shirts, the
manager did offer a free monogram on the cuffs and John accepted.
The bill increased when it came to buying suits, slacks and sport
jackets. Dennis had known that John dressed well, he had just never
appreciated the cost of doing so.

As he helped John carry the last of the items back to the Jeep he
asked, "How can you afford all this on what we make? I know that you
didn't get a check from the insurance company already."

"I have a trust fund that my grandparents set up when I was born. My
credit cards are automatically paid from it, so I don't even have to
worry about stroking out a check." John smiled at Dennis. "I'm glad
you mentioned the insurance check. I totally forgot to call the
insurance company. I am so glad that my parents insisted that I get
renters' insurance." Then John frowned, "I wonder how many of the
other tenants had it?"

"A lot of people don't bother with it. They tend to think that
nothing bad will happen to them."

"What about you? Do you have it?"

"My Dad insisted on it."

"Good." John started the Jeep, then paused and looked over at Dennis.
"Do you need to go home now?"

"No. Why? What's going on in your head, John?" Dennis had seen
that look in John's eyes before. The boy was plotting something.
Hopefully, this something wouldn't get him written up by the Chief
of Staff. Again.

"I want to find out where all my neighbors have gone. Make sure
they're all right and have what they need. Get them money for clothes
and a new place to live."

"You sound like you can afford to do that, John."

John thought for a second, then nodded, "I can."

Dennis laughed, "Do I even want to know how much money you have in
that trust fund of yours?"

"Um, I'm not sure of the exact amount, but it's around four or five
hundred."

"You just spent thousands of dollars on clothes, so how can you
afford that if you only have four or five hundred dollars?"

"Four or five hundred thousand." John said, so matter-of-factly
that Dennis wanted to slap him.

Dennis laughed, "And I'm worried that you can't afford what you
just bought. Let's go see if we can find your neighbors!"

John drove off, thinking that he liked the way Dennis laughed. He was
beginning to like a lot of the things that Dennis did. It had stunned
him though, when Dennis had said he was his best friend. He had never
really had one of those before. He had his roommates in boarding
school - at least in the later years. In the earlier years he had
shared a ward with other boys. But, his roommates were never his best
friends. Friends, yes, but not best friends. The closest he had ever
come to that had been after he joined a fraternity at Penn State. He
ended up sharing a room with Jim Dixon, a football player from Virginia.
They had been roommates for only a week before they became lovers, and
that had only ended when they graduated. Jim went on to law school
and John to medical school. They still exchanged Christmas Cards as
a way to keep in touch. They had not been a couple while in
college - no way was that happening. Too dangerous. They had
dated women, bedded women. They had even bedded other guys from
time to time. But, Jim had been his best friend then. And now
Dennis thought he was his best friend now. There were a lot of
similarities between Jim and Dennis. They had similar personalities
and each man had a great sense of humor. John couldn't help but
wonder if Dennis shared other traits with Jim - such as liking other
men. Had it been his imagination or had Dennis touched him on his
butt when he was giving him the compazine shot that morning? He
hoped he hadn't imagined it. He would like nothing more than to get
to know Dennis a lot better.


From the Journal of Dennis Gant:

".........John was complaining that the maid put too much starch in
his shirts. There he is, with this huge house all to himself, and
he's complaining about starch. I wanted to ask him if he had heard
from his parents, but felt that might be too nosy on my part. I did
impulsively tell him that he could move in with me. Held my breath
too until he answered yes. So, tomorrow, John is moving into the spare
room. Thank you, Daddy for insisting I get a two bedroom place. I
did have to assure John that I would not put too much starch in his
shirts. I think he appreciated that gesture."


By some amazing stroke of luck, John had the entire day off. Since
Dennis had to work, he gave John the extra key and directions to his
place. He told John that there was a bed already in the spare room,
and a chest of drawers. Anything else he needed or wanted, he would
have to purchase. Dennis offered to go out with John later to buy
more furniture and help move it in. John told him that he would
think about that, but first he had to see if his meager belongings
would fit in the chest of drawers.

Moving in had been so easy - not much to it when all you have is a
suitcase full of clothing, John thought. All that he had fit into the
closet and the chest of drawers. Now he had to think about anything
else he might need for the room. Dennis had the living room, dining
room and kitchen covered. There was a wide screen television and
excellent stereo system in the living room. Plenty of dishes in the
kitchen. A lot of food, too. The dining room table was also new,
with four chairs surrounding it. The linen closet was packed with
soft fluffy towels and washcloths, so John didn't need to buy any of
that. He would need more sheets though, because Dennis only had the
one set for the spare bed. For his bed, now. John went out shopping,
returning to the apartment to discover that Dennis was now home from
work. He could hear Dennis in the shower, it sounded extra loud
because Dennis had not closed his bedroom door. That was another
feature of the apartment that John liked - each man had his own
bathroom. Well, Dennis had his own bathroom. John had to use the
one in the hallway, but for all intents and purposes, it was his.

John emptied his shopping bags on the couch and separated the sheet
sets he had bought. While shopping, he had decided to buy some
sheets for Dennis' bed as well - no sense leaving his roommate out
of the excitement of having something new. Not when Dennis had been
so gracious as to let him move in with him.

"I see that you've been shopping again," Dennis' voice sounded amused.

John looked over to where Dennis stood in the hallway and grinned.
"It looked like we needed more sheets, so I bought some."

"We?"

"I got some for you, too." John had to quickly look away as Dennis
came to sit on the other end of the couch. Dennis was only wearing
a pair of jockey shorts and they were displaying his attributes quite
nicely. John knew he had no business thinking about Dennis in a
sexual way, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that his roommate
was barely dressed.

Dennis examined each package, then nodded, "Thanks, John. Say, are
you hungry?"

"Yeah." John had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying that
he was hungry for Dennis and not for food. That would get him kicked
out of there in a heartbeat.

"Can you cook?"

John grinned, "I can heat up things, but I can't cook. Never had to."

"Then how did you eat before?"

"I ate at the hospital a lot and I heated up a lot of soup and frozen
meals."

"Well, I was going to suggest that you pick out something to cook
while I got dressed, but I think I had better do that."

"Dennis, I can pick out food. Go get dressed."

John headed for the kitchen while Dennis returned to his room. Having
something to do kept John's mind off of the way he was beginning to
feel about Dennis. He decided they would have steak and salad, there
were also some frozen vegetables - certainly none of that could be
difficult to prepare. He knew enough to wash the salad vegetables
before slicing them and he was happily cutting up a bell pepper when
Dennis entered the kitchen.

"What did you find?" he asked as he stepped up to the counter,
grabbed a piece of bell pepper and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Steak, salad and vegetables. I can handle the salad part, you
need to take care of the rest."

"No problem." Dennis went to the stove and started with the main
part of the meal while John continued to prepare the salad. All
that remained was the lettuce and John wasn't sure what to do with
it once he had it washed. He set it on the cutting board and stared
at it for a short while, wondering just how one went about cutting a
head of lettuce. Once he thought he had it figured out, he picked up
the larger knife and began to saw away at it. He wasn't sure if the
lettuce rolled, or if he was just careless, but the next thing he
knew, the blade of the knife was cutting into the fleshy part of
his hand between the thumb and forefinger.

"Damn!" He dropped the knife to the counter and began to suck on
the bleeding wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

"Here." Dennis grabbed his hand and stuck in under a stream of
running water, washing it gently with antibacterial soap. "Are
you sure you should be in surgery?"

"Ha ha, very funny. It's not deep is it?"

"I can't tell yet." Dennis cut off the water and dried the area,
which still insisted on bleeding. "It doesn't look deep. I think
that you can get by with a simple bandage. Just stand here and hold
your hand over the sink, okay?"

John stood there, watching his blood drip into the sink as Dennis
went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Dennis put a pressure
bandage on the wound, then made John sit down while he cleaned up the
mess.

"I think we had better keep the first aid kit in here from now on,"
Dennis couldn't keep from grinning. John obviously knew how to handle
a scalpel or he wouldn't have made it this far, so John's injury wasn't
caused by his own inability to handle a knife. Just his own ignorance
of what to do with a head of lettuce, Dennis thought as he surveyed
the slashed greenery. John had somehow managed to keep his blood off
of the food, so Dennis was able to rip the lettuce into shreds and put
it in the bowl with the rest of the salad.

"Now, did you see what I did with the lettuce? You don't cut it,
John. You tear it."

"I'll remember that. Provided I ever want to eat salad again."

"Don't pout. It's not your fault you're helpless in the kitchen.
I'm sure that your family's maid never let you help out, right?"

"I guess I'm not that great a catch as a roommate, Dennis. I'm
sorry." John was no longer pouting, he was now looking downcast.

"Hey, I didn't ask you to move in here because I was looking for a
cook. I asked you in here because --- well, because I like you and
you're my best friend. We'll work out something. I can cook and
you can do the cleaning. You do know how to wash dishes, don't you?"

"I can manage that. My apartment had a dishwasher and a sink."

"What about bathrooms?"

"Sorry, the maid took care of that; but, when I was in boarding school
and college, I did my share of cleaning."

"See? We can work something out. How does your hand feel?"

"It still hurts, but it's not as bad."

"Did your mom ever do that thing about kissing a hurt to make it
better?" Dennis smiled as he remembered all the times his mother had
done just that for him. The strange thing was that it often worked.
Maybe someday science would figure out why.

"Mom wasn't around that much." To the best of his knowledge, John
had never been injured in the presence of his mother. "My parents
traveled a lot before my brother died and after he died they put my
sister and me in boarding school and traveled even more. The nurse
at school never kissed anything to make it feel better." John hoped
he didn't sound as bitter about that as he felt.

"I'm sorry about that, John. Here." Dennis impulsively reached out
and grabbed John's hand, then lifted it to his lips and placed a
gentle kiss on the bandage. "That should make it feel better."

John's insides felt as if they were melting. While the bandage kept
him from actually feeling the kiss itself, the very idea of Dennis
touching his lips to him was intoxicating. As Dennis let go of his
hand and returned to preparing dinner, John sat there, bewildered by
this turn of events. Was this normal? Was Dennis maybe telling
him that he was interested in him as something other than a friend?
John found himself wishing he was from a somewhat normal family so
he would know whether or not it was considered okay for a man to
kiss another man's injury. His family didn't do a lot of touching
period and John had discovered in college that the touch of another
human was something he craved and enjoyed.


From the Journal of Dennis Gant:

"It's been a week since I kissed John's "boo-boo". I think I lost
my fucking mind when I did that. I don't know why I did it. Don't
know if I'm glad I did it. The look in his eyes when I kissed the
bandage on his hand was indecipherable. At first, I thought he was
shocked, but the more I think about it, the more I think that he
was just surprised and confused. But, I'm not sure what had him
confused. Could it be possible that he wanted more or am I just
dreaming about that? I do know that the more I hear about his
family, the more I hate them. They are so screwed up and I think
they might have him all screwed up as well. There are times when
I hear him say something that sounds odd and I think that he was
just plucked out of somewhere isolated and set down in the real
world without any clue at all.

John acts as if it's a great game now. Anytime he bumps into
something or hurts himself in any way, he looks at me, his eyes
innocent and wide, and asks me if I can kiss the hurt away. Lordy,
if he only knew what he was doing to me. So far, he hasn't slipped
up while at work and asked me that. But, I would love to see the
look on Benton's face if John ever did. I find myself dreaming about
John every night - beautiful dreams filled with me loving him and
him asking me to kiss the hurt away. I have not had a wet dream
since I was fifteen years old and wild about Tiffany Jenkins - now
I find myself having one every night. John is even invading my
conscious thoughts. I will find myself fantasizing about him while
I'm supposed to be working. If I don't get my desires under control
soon, then I'm afraid I'll mess up in the OR. If only Monique
would come for a visit or call more often, then my need would not
be as great. If only I could say the same about my want."


Dennis gave up his effort to quit thinking about John. He could
hear him in the shower now, naked, wet and warm in the next room.
He could envision John rubbing the bar of soap all over his body,
the lather covering him like another skin, then John would stand
under the hot water, twisting his body every which way as he rinsed
off. Then John would wash his hair, lifting his arms toward his
head and leaving the rest of his body exposed. One more rinsing
and he would be done. Dennis' hand slid under the waistband of his
shorts and he moaned as he stroked his throbbing penis. John would
then turn off the water and reach for the towel. Dennis could see
John using the dark blue towel. John looked really good in blue
scrubs and he knew that John would look good in that towel. But,
in this fantasy, John would not wear the towel. After drying his
body, he would hang the towel up, then walk to the sink where he
would comb his hair and brush his teeth. Then he would leave the
bathroom and walk to his bedroom, still totally naked. In these
visions, John never covered himself. He was always naked,
desirable and ready.

Dennis didn't realize that the apartment was now totally quiet
until John's voice broke through the silence, calling out his name
from the doorway. He jerked his hand out of his pants as he
wondered if he had left his door ajar or if John had opened the door.

"Dennis? Are you okay?"

The hallway, like Dennis' bedroom, was dark and Dennis couldn't see
John's face. He could hear the worry in his voice though. Hopefully,
John had no idea of what he had interrupted.

"Dennis?"

"I'm okay, John. Go to bed."

"Are you sure? You didn't sound fine when you called me."

"I must have been dreaming. Sorry." Christ! He did not remember
calling out John's name. He was going to have to be more careful
from now on or else he would scare John away. That was a thought
that he couldn't bear to dwell upon.

"That must have been some dream," John sounded as if he was smiling.

"Yeah, it was." Dennis found himself smiling, too. Dennis didn't
hear anything else for a few minutes. He had just told himself
that John had gone on to his own room when John spoke again.

"So, you don't have any hurts that need to be kissed better?"

"No," Dennis said, not quite able to pinpoint the tone he heard in
John's voice. It had been almost hopeful.

"I do." John's voice was almost a whisper.

"You've hurt yourself again?" Dennis couldn't help but grin.

"No. It's not a cut or a bruise. It's a terrible ache, Dennis.
Can you kiss it and make it better?" John asked as he walked toward
the bed.

"Come here." Dennis sat upright and clicked on the bedside lamp,
then turned his head to look at John. The sight before him made
his heart jump into his throat. John was clad in only a big fluffy,
dark blue towel. It hugged his hips nicely and Dennis had to
force himself to sound normal as he asked, "Where does it hurt?"

He looked up at John's face and what he saw in those dark brown
eyes took his breath away. It was desire. Pure, unadulterated
desire. The look in John's eyes was far from innocent. They were
smoldering as they gazed down at Dennis. Dennis held his breath
as John's hands undid the towel and let it drop to the floor.
John's body looked exactly as he had imagined, except the reality
of John's hardness was far superior to any fantasy.

"I'm so hard that it hurts, Dennis." John's voice was low and husky.

Maybe this is another wet dream, Dennis thought. If so, then
nothing would happen that would scare John away. He reached out
and lightly ran a finger along the shaft of John's penis, liking the
way it flexed under his touch.

"I think I can help you feel better."

John smiled. "I was hoping you could."

Dennis smiled up at him as he began to pump the swollen organ. It
didn't escape his attention that John was thrusting his hips toward
him in time with the pumping. Finally though, Dennis leaned over
and did what he wanted most - he wrapped his lips around the tip of
John's penis and slowly sucked his way down the shaft. John's moans
created a shock wave of desire in his own body and he could feel his
own penis harden even further. If this was a dream, then Dennis
never wanted to awaken from it.

From The Journal of Dennis Gant:

"I can't believe that Benton is such an ass. Telling me I had to
work twice as hard as anyone else just to prove I'm good enough to
be a doctor, just because I'm African American. Just who does he
think he is, anyway? I swear, he is getting on my nerves big time.
If he keeps up with this type of attitude, then I don't know if I
can make it an entire year. My evaluation was horrible. According
to John, he gave everyone the same review. It's like he doesn't see
what we can do. John claims that he did more last year as Benton's
student then he's doing now. I cannot understand how John can stand
to work with the man. Maybe he's just a sucker for punishment or
something. John is so blind sometimes. I swear he's got to be the
most naïve person I've ever met. Believes that most people are
good inside, doesn't see it when people are out to get him. Doesn't
see it when someone wants him. Like Keaton. Man, she is hot for
him. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at him, hear it in
her voice when she talks to him. She's always so gentle around him,
but then again, she's gentle around everyone. Why can't Benton be
more like her?"


John was quiet on the El for the entire ride to their stop. Nothing
that Dennis said or did made him want to talk. It wasn't until they
were in the apartment and alone that John began to relax.

"Okay, want to talk about it?" Dennis asked, sitting down next to
John on the couch.

"Not really. It was just a bad day all the way around, you know?
What a Halloween."

"Yeah."

"You were doing really great in that gun shot trauma, Dennis. But,
then you let Benton get you flustered. Why do you let him do that
to you?"

Dennis shrugged, "I don't know. He's just so damned intimidating,
I guess."

"Intimidation is what Keaton does to Benton. Man, you should see
the way he just folds up in front of her." John laughed as he
remembered how much Benton did not know when he was trying to calm
a crying baby. "He is so out of his league with this pediatric
surgery rotation. It's great to watch him."

"Well, at least one of us is getting to have some fun. With my
luck, he'll take all his frustrations out on me."

"Dennis, you just can't let him do that to you. Stand up to him."

"John, I've tried. I really have tried. It's just no use. He
keeps knocking me back down, time and time again."

John reached over and tenderly ran the back of his fingers down
Dennis' cheek. "Hey, you sound like you could use some cheering
up."

Dennis smiled slightly, "Being with you always cheers me up, John.
But, I promised Monique that I would call her tonight."

John dropped his hand, then sighed. "Well, I'm going to get a
shower then."

They left the living room and went to their bedrooms. As Dennis
dialed Monique's number, he could hear John heading into the
bathroom. He smiled as he remembered their first time together -
it had happened after John had been in the shower. There had
been so many other times since then, even though they had not
been roommates for that long. Now they were bedmates. Each night
they flipped a coin to see whose bed they would sleep in. So far,
he was in the lead, with them having spent more time in his bed
than they had in John's. Not that John was complaining.

His conversation with Monique was short and it left him feeling
empty. There was something wrong with her. Or else things were
changing between them. If he didn't have John around as a
distraction, he would be tempted to call her back and demand an
explanation. But, he knew that John was in the next room, naked
and warm from the water. Whatever was going on with Monique
would still be going on tomorrow.

The bathroom door was unlocked, just as he knew it would be.
Dennis grabbed the towel and sat down on the toilet lid, waiting
for John to finish. A thrill of anticipation shot through him
as he heard the water stop. Then the shower curtain was pushed
back and John was looking for his towel.

Dennis grinned as he held out the towel, keeping it just out of
John's reach. "Looking for this?"

"You know I am."

"I also know you don't need it. Step out of the tub."

"I'll get the floor wet."

"The floor will dry." Dennis stood as John stepped over the side
of the tub. As they faced each other, Dennis began to dry John's
body, moving the towel slowly and carefully over his skin, noting
that it was still rosy from the hot water. Dennis took great care
to make sure every inch of John's skin was dry. Every inch of skin
except for that on his penis. He deliberately avoided touching John
there and he could see that it was driving his friend crazy. He
knew from past experience that if he didn't touch John soon, then
John would start to beg for his touch. In fact, he was counting on
that to happen. He liked hearing John beg for him to make love to
him. Tonight though, there would be no bed. He was going to bring
a fantasy to life. He had long dreamed about having his way with
John in front of a roaring fire with the snow falling outside.
Well, there was no snow, but it was chilly enough to warrant a
fire, especially since John was just out of the shower.

Dennis knelt on the floor to dry John's legs and feet and he had
to duck his head to hide the smile that appeared the second he
heard John whimper.

"Dennis, please?"

"Please what?"

"Please don't torment me like this. Touch me."

"I am touching you, John." To demonstrate that fact, Dennis rubbed
the towel briskly up John's thigh, stopping within inches of his
groin and making him whimper once again.

"Damn, Dennis, you're driving me crazy."

"All I'm doing is drying you off, John. How can that drive you
crazy?"

"You know how. Lord, Dennis, don't do this to me."

Dennis stood and placed the towel on the towel bar so it could
dry, then he walked out of the bathroom and to the living room so
he could start the fire. He knew that John would be right behind
him and sure enough, when he turned around, there he was.

With a smile, Dennis pulled John down to the carpet, and as the
flames danced behind him, he began to run his tongue all over
John's body - still with one notable exception. It didn't take
long for John to notice the omission. It took even less time
for him to start to beg.

"Dennis, make me come. Please?"

"Did I ever tell you that I've had a fantasy about making love
to you right here? The two of us on the floor while a fire blazed
brightly before us. And snow falling outside."

"Damn, Dennis. Quit talking about it and start doing it," John's
voice was more demanding than pleading.

"As you wish." Dennis finally lowered his head, taking John's
very hard penis into his mouth. He couldn't help but smile as
he heard John's sighs of pleasure and he began to suck harder,
knowing that it wouldn't take much to get John to come. Dennis
strategically positioned his body so that John couldn't move his
hips at all - any relief that he obtained would all come from
Dennis' efforts and none from his own.

That didn't keep John from trying to move, but he finally realized
the fruitlessness of that and he lay still, simply enjoying what
Dennis was doing. He could feel his need build until he wanted
to scream from the aching of it. And he did cry out when his
orgasm overcame him and Dennis still sucked him.

"You are so loud," Dennis chuckled when he finished with John.

"If I am, then it's all your fault," John tried to pout, but he
ended up laughing instead as Dennis pulled him into a sitting
position and then began to kiss him. John smiled as Dennis gasped
from what John's hands were doing to him.

"I want you. Now." Dennis said.

"Here?"

"Here." Dennis' voice was thick with desire as he pushed John to
the floor again.

"Now?"

"Now." Dennis kissed John, then let his lips trail down John's
neck and over his chest. Seeking out the parts of John's body that
were the most sensitive to his tongue. Which happened to be nearly
every inch of skin on his body. Dennis never grew tired of playing
with John's body. To him, a perfect day would be one that he spent
in bed with John, doing anything he wanted to him. Which would
be everything. But, most especially, things that made John moan
like the way he was doing now.

As Dennis entered him, John's mind was miles away from work and
the way his insides had gotten all queasy when Abby Keaton had
smiled at him. Or the way her voice cut through to his soul.
Right now, she was the furthest thing from his mind -- all he
cared about was making sure Dennis' hunger was sated. Anything
to keep Dennis' mind off of Monique and the games the girl was
playing with his mind and heart. God, John hated to see Dennis
so hurt by her machinations. He swore to himself that he would
do everything he could to make Dennis happy. But, afterward, as
the two of them lay on the carpet in front of the fire, John
couldn't help remembering the odd look in Abby Keaton's eyes as
they talked earlier. And just about any other time they talked.
If he were more worldly, like Doug Ross, then he would know
whether or not she was making subtle passes at him. But, he
wasn't worldly. If she was, then he would most likely find out
soon enough, and if she wasn't, well, then there wasn't anything
to worry about. He didn't want to pursue a relationship with
Benton's teacher. Or did he?



From The Journal of Dennis Gant

"Well, I now know for sure that what I've feared is true. John
has a girlfriend. That's where he's been going. That's why he's
been reluctant to have sex with me. Hell, he spent Christmas Eve
with her instead of me. I really don't care about not going over
to his parent's house, but I did want to make love with him
tonight. Not that it mattered. I say tonight, but it was almost
dawn on Christmas morning when I got home. Too many files to
deal with at work, thanks to Benton. The man hates me. I wonder
who the woman is? John hasn't mentioned anyone. I'll bet it's
Keaton. She's been after him for quite some time now; maybe she
finally caught him. Man, I've got some nerve feeling jealous
because he's with a woman. I have Monique. At least I think
I have her. She's been so distant lately. I think she's found
herself another man. I wish she would just come right out and
tell me. Let me know for sure where I stand. I've heard that
she's been going out with a guy, but I don't have any confirmation
from her. It was a bitch that she cancelled out on coming up
here for Christmas. If I could talk to her face to face then I
could find out what's going on with her. I wonder if John is
seeing Keaton? When she looks at John I can see the want in
her eyes. I've never really noticed if he's been looking back
at her. Not that it would be a bad thing for him. I like her.
Everyone likes Abby Keaton. Well, Benton probably doesn't like
her, but I don't think he likes anyone except himself. Hell,
if John's serious about Keaton then I should avoid him as much
as I can. I know that he's trying to be faithful to her, but
he tempts me too much. If I don't avoid him, then I'll end up
taking him to bed and it's obvious he doesn't want that now.
Doesn't want me now."


John closed the apartment door, leaned against it and let his body
slide to the floor. He didn't know how he was able to keep
himself under control for so much time. Had it only been two
hours since Benton had pronounced Dennis dead? It felt like an
eternity. John closed his eyes against his tears. He didn't
want to cry again. He had cried right after Dennis died and no
one said anything to him about it. They all understood. Well,
Benton probably didn't understand, he never understood anything
about him. But, everyone else knew that he and Dennis were
roommates and friends, so they understood his grief. He wondered
if Abby would understand? She was in a plane somewhere over the
Atlantic, on her way to Pakistan. She had decided that she didn't
need to have him around and had taken the teaching position. A
position guaranteed to take her far away from him. Maybe he had
been too boring for her. Or too inexperienced. Too something.
She had turned her back on their romance just as he had turned
his back on Dennis. And now they both had left him behind.

He thought about the last time he saw Dennis. They had spoken in
the cafeteria after the encounter with Benton and Anspaugh. The
conversation had been short and, for John, relieving. Dennis
didn't blame him for not backing him up in front of the Chief of
Staff. John had gladly gone on his way, confident that their
friendship had remained intact. Later, he had run into Dennis
in the surgical locker room. Dennis had been sitting on a bench,
looking very sad and thoughtful. John made sure they were alone,
then sat beside him.

"Are you all right?"

Dennis barely nodded. "Don't worry about me, John. I told you
that everything was cool with us."

"I feel as if I let you down." If only he could explain to him
about Benton catching him with Abby. Surely Dennis would understand
that he couldn't risk Benton telling Anspaugh about that.

"Don't worry about it. It hurt at first, but not anymore." It
didn't hurt him as much as it had hurt when he realized that John
had a girlfriend. Despite the fact that he wanted to remain
faithful to Monique, he couldn't stop wanting to be with John.
Strange how John finding a woman and his losing Monique had
happened at about the same time. And now he was acting like a
fool trying to get Monique back into his life. He should be
grateful that she was out of it - maybe now that Keaton was gone,
he should concentrate on getting John back into his bed.

"I could kiss the hurt away," John smiled gently.

Dennis shook his head and placed his hand on John's thigh. "There
are some hurts that can't be kissed better, John. Don't worry
about it. I'll be fine."

John looked uncertainly at Dennis. He liked the fact that Dennis
was willing to touch him again. After he had told him at Christmas
that he had a girlfriend, Dennis had seemed reluctant to touch
him. "I need to go back to the E.R. When will you be getting
home?"

"I'm covering the E.R. starting at six. Another twelve-hour
shift. Then I'll be home. When are you on again?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll see you at home then."

"Sure."

John stood, then impulsively leaned down and quickly kissed Dennis.
He left just as quickly, not wanting to see if Dennis had been
angered or pleased by the kiss. He knew he would find out what his
reaction had been once Dennis got home later.

John hastily wiped away his tears as he remembered that. There had
been no later for them. The next time he had seen Dennis, he was
unrecognizable. Why was Dennis on the El platform? Why did he
leave the hospital? Why did he leave him? His tears flowed freely
as memories of Dennis washed over him, obliterating his view of
the apartment and temporarily dulling the pain. John knew that
when the memories ended, the pain would return with a vengeance,
but he didn't care about that right now. All he cared about was
that he had held something precious in his hands and had lost it
forever.

An idea occurred to him - there might be things in Dennis' room
that he wouldn't want his mother and father to see. John knew that
Dennis kept a journal because he had often seen him writing in it.
He had no idea what Dennis wrote and he never asked him about it.
They were Dennis' private thoughts and he felt he had no right to
intrude upon them. He got to his feet and headed for Dennis'
bedroom, not really wanting to go in there, but knowing that he
had to enter that room at least one more time.



From The Journal of Dennis Gant:

"This is John writing, not Dennis. Dennis died yesterday. He
either died by accident or killed himself. The police say that
it was an accident. I know better. No one will ever read this
journal, but I think it's important to write down what happened
to Dennis - bring the book to an end, I suppose.

Dennis was so alone and lonely. I had ended our relationship
because I was getting involved with Abby. I have never really
believed in being involved with two people at the same time. Casual
sex I can handle, but nothing that involves more than that. Abby
seemed to want more than casual sex and so did Dennis. Since
Dennis had Monique, I felt free to chose Abby over him. Maybe
that was a mistake. I'll never know. Monique broke things
off with Dennis around Christmas, leaving him totally alone.
I was too wrapped up in Abby to notice how down he had become.
I had my own problems in that I couldn't bring myself to admit
to Abby how I felt about her and then she accepted a teaching
position in Pakistan and was going to leave me behind. Even
then I couldn't tell her I loved her. She was so sure that
there were no deep feelings involved. She was wrong. Wrapped
up in my own pending loss, I avoided Dennis and his problems.
I didn't have much time left with Abby and I didn't want to
spend it in a depressed state. I was wrong to act that way;
I can see that now. But, it's too late now. Much too late.
Abby left the same day that Dennis died, and now I am the
one who has been left alone and lonely. How fitting."


Kerry sighed as she closed the notebook. She had not meant to
read something so obviously private, but when she had found the
notebook on the couch, she had opened it to find out what it
was. The more she read, the more she knew that she should put
the book down. But, conversely, the more she read, the more
she knew she just couldn't do that. Yesterday had been the
anniversary of Gant's death and Kerry supposed that John had
been reading over the journal while she had been at work. Then
she found herself wondering if John had ever read the journal.
Just because he had added a part at the end, it didn't mean that
he had read the entire thing. If he had, then he would see he
had no reason to feel guilty about Gant's death. The journal
was a testament to Gant's mental and emotional state during that
year of his internship.

Kerry put the notebook back on the cushion, then got up and
headed upstairs to bed. Even though she was tired from work
and from reading, she had a suspicion that sleep would be a
long time coming. She knew that she would be thinking about
John and Dennis Gant.


Down in the basement, John was frantically searching for Dennis'
journal. He remembered taking it out of the drawer yesterday,
then going upstairs with it, determined to finally read it. Did
he bring it back downstairs with him? He really couldn't remember.
What if he had left it upstairs? He rushed upstairs, relieved to
discover that Kerry had come home, but had obviously gone to bed.
He spotted the journal on the couch and he snatched it up, tightly
holding it against his body. No one else had seen it, or read
what Dennis had thought. He carried it back downstairs and put
it back in his bottom drawer. Maybe next year he would have
enough courage to read Dennis' thoughts and hopes and dreams.
Maybe.


The End