Forgive Me- Tavis 4
#4 of Forgive Me
¬¬Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, companies, objects, etc. is merely a coincidence. DO NOT read this if you are under 18/21 (depending on local law), or if it is illegal for you to view such material. This story contains M/M love, kissing, and cuddling, plus violence and bad language. If you are uncomfortable with that, feel free to leave at any time. Otherwise, read on.
Also, remember to place fire pokers facing down to avoid injury, and don't drink alcohol.
PLEASE READ:
NOTE: Due to Yiffstar not italicizing the text, all mental notes/thoughts will be in some form of brackets. Ex: [It's been so long since he's been this lively]. Since the English language doesn't have words for a furry (other than fur, furson, etc) I will use people, person, etc to make things simpler. Sorry it took so long to get finished. I did the next chapter before this one, and I was out of town for a few days.
Part 4
Enjoy!
[Poor David, he got the worst of it. I wish I could've done more.] After the ambulances took us to Palermo hospital, doctors rushed out to see us both. David was unconscious throughout the tests. The doctors told me that I had just a mild concussion, and that with a little rest I should be fine. David on the other hand had a broken rib, several cuts and bruises ranging from mild to moderate, and would require several months of rest to heal and antibiotics to prevent an infection.
"Mr. Kenningcot? The police would like to talk to you."
It was a young feline nurse, golden fur and bright blue eyes. She was standing in front of two uniformed police, a young raccoon and an older puma, and a third fur I couldn't really make out.
"Thanks. Uh, can I help you?"
"Mr. Kenningcot, I'm Sergeant Vargas, and this is Sergeant Silcox. We just have a few questions. First, please go through these photographs and tell me if you recognize any of them."
The puma handed me a small stack of Polaroids as the raccoon wrote down everything. I looked through them, and saw several disheveled looking punks. There was a rottweiler, a tiger, a badger, and a few other assorted furs, about ten in total. None of them were over 23-ish. [So these are the assholes that hurt David.] I didn't recognize any of them, and I told Sgt. Vargas so.
"Do you have any idea, other from the obvious one, why they would want to hurt you or Mr. Halse?"
"Well, apart from being gay, no. David's not the kind of fur to get involved with people like that."
"Just a formality, you know. We looked over his record, and came to the same conclusion. Mr. Halse is the unfortunate victim of a hate crime. Makes me sick. Well, you'll be glad to know that we caught all of them, and they're going away for a very, very long time. Also, the officer who found you first is here and he would like a word with you. Have a good night."
_The two officers pointed to the third fur, who was now across the room, and left. I saw a tall black wolf partly in police uniform looking away from me, talking to the raccoon. He turned around and I staggered back. [What the fuck!]
" '-weakly- Tavis? I, uh . . . It's good to see you.' "
"What the fuck do you want Chris! It had better be good, or I swear I'll rip your throat out!"
I was furious. Ever since he raped and beat David, I can't stand the thought of him. He makes my mind cloud with anger. I couldn't think straight, and the only thought that ran through my mind was to grab Chris by the throat and squeeze the life out of him. The raccoon saw that I meant what I said, and stepped in front of Chris._
"Mr. Kennigcot, please calm down. Take a deep breath, don't do anything hasty now. Sit down."
I didn't want the raccoon to get hurt, so I tried to calm myself, and sat down like I was told. Still, I was furious, and I leered at Chris to let him know.
"Perhaps you two should talk outside. Chris, don't do anything stupid."
I headed out. [Perhaps the cold air will do me good.] Once I was outside, I turned and saw Chris slowly walking towards me.
"Well?"
"Tavis, I . . . I want to, to apologize for what I did to you and David. It wasn't right, what I did. I, ah, I actually owe you and David a lot. More than you could know."
[That was unexpected.] My eyes were wide open. I certainly wasn't expecting that. Maybe a rant on how being a fag had gotten us beaten, or something along those lines, but an apology was too good to be true.
"You expect me to believe you. After what you fucking did!"
He looked hurt, and looked down at his feet. I saw his eyes glisten with tears, and felt calmer. I still wasn't feeling sorry for him, nor had I forgiven him, but he might be telling the truth.
"I don't expect you to forgive me. Much less David, but all I ask is that you listen to me. I really, really fucked up. If you hadn't stopped me, I would've destroyed my life. I wouldn't have anything I have now. While I was in prison, I had a lot of time to think. At first, I was furious at you and David. But I met a tiger there, and he talked to me, and listened to me, and showed me what I had done. He was there for murder, and he said that he was just like me when he got there, angry and blind. But he told me that over time, he saw what he had done, and now he sent every dime he made to the family of the guy he killed. I listened to him, and I felt angry, but this time, it was at myself."
I was impressed. Chris was the last person whom I expected to apologize. I saw that he was being honest, but every time I started to feel sorry, my mind flashed me an image of David bleeding on the floor, and I was angry again.
"I got help after that. I saw that most furs there thought that they hadn't done anything wrong, and were angry at others. But a few of us had changed. I was fortunate to be the latter. When I got out, I went to see if I could sign up for the police academy. They were skeptical, but I passed some evaluation and they gave me a chance. And ever since, I've tried to find you two and apologize. So imagine my horror when I pass by an alley, and see David on the floor being beaten by a gang. I shot the closest guy in the thigh, giving him a flesh wound, and I called in for reinforcements. It seems that David always gets hurt, -sniff- and I'm one of the"
I didn't know what to say. For one thing, Chris had always been a tough ass jock in college, but he seemed sorry. No offense, but Chris was not smart enough to pull of such a lie, but I wouldn't put it past him. I looked at him sitting on a bench, with his head in his hands, breathing deeply. I was torn between protecting David, and believing Chris. But don't think for a minute I forgave him. It's going to take a lot more time for that, if it happens. He may have been sorry, but that didn't make things peachy between us. He got up and looked at me.
-Sigh- "Do you think I could talk to David."
"No. If you want to talk to him, you'll have to wait. I don't want you anywhere near him! I'll let you know if and when. If I find you near him, or that you talked to him without my say so, that raccoon won't be able to stop me from tearing you apart!"
[That was strange. Why did he flinch?] Chris had stood firm during all of it, but at the mention of the raccoon he flinched. Not by much, and he caught it, but I noticed. I walked away, leaving Chris standing in the cold.
When David woke up, I told him as much as I could, and held his hand to try to make him feel better, but I was constantly distracted. I kept thinking back to what Chris had said. [Should I let him talk to David? What if he makes it worse?]
For the next few months, David slowly got better. His bones healed, he didn't develop an infection, but he said it still hurt in some places. At first it might have been true, but when he saw I would kiss where he told me it hurt, he probably made up aches just to steal a peck from me. He's cute that way.
David missed a lot of work. Most architects would've been fired, but David was lucky in that one respect. He worked as an architect for Szabolcs Inc. where he designed a whole bunch of aircraft components. His boss, an aging husky named Richard Hauspie, seemed to have a shining for David, and put all of his projects on hold, or gave them to someone else. I guess that husky was like a grandfather to us. He knew that we were gay, but he was always kind, but he did tend to use the word 'sonny' a little bit too much. Still, it was a lot better than having a homophobe as a boss. I still had to go to work, since I wasn't hurt badly. I worked at one of the plants that built Szabolcs' designs, and I was there to supervise that the bloody things were put together right. Thank God CalTech had good mathematics, otherwise several planes would've misteriously crashed. Unfortunately, I couldn't be spared, but I did get shorter hours (my boss wasn't a bad guy; he just wasn't like Mr. Hauspie).
I came to visit David every day after work. I brought him little chocolates and candies to wake up his taste buds, since hospital food is notoriously bland. I kissed him every chance I got, and I often slept in a chair next to his bed. But all that time my mind kept going back to Chris. Chris had saved David, but he had also almost killed David. I often found myself staring at David, not listening to him, and I could see he was worried.
I tried to comfort him by making jokes, but he wasn't convinced.
One night, while I was stroking his hand and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, David pushed me back and looked into my eyes. I knew he was going to ask.
"Tavis, I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you. But please, tell me what's wrong. I'm worried, and eventually, I'll find out. Please, if you love me, what is it?"
I became very serious, and looked him in the eyes. I had to make a decision, tell him, or let him remain ignorant and happy? I turned and shook my head.
-Sigh- " '-whisper- It all seems like one sick joke.' You remember that one cop found us first, and saved you? Well, there's a problem. He wants to talk to you. But I've refused to let him."
[He looks confused. If only he knew.] David had tilted his head sideways, and looked absolutely puzzled.
"Why? What did he do?"
I said nothing. Suddenly, his eyes shot wide open, and his pupils dilated.
"Honey, what's his name?"
The room became deathly silent, neither one of us was breathing. I looked him in the eyes, neither one of us blinked.
"David, you're not going to believe this, but it was Captain Chris Burman."
His body slumped back, and his eyes rolled into his head. He passed out, and I kissed him lightly on the lips, wishing him good dreams and good luck.
I sat in the chair I'd spent many a night in, thinking back to . . . that night. It was always haunting me. In a sense, Chris and I were no different. We both hurt David, but I had been pardoned, so why not Chris?
David and I had graduated from CalTech four years earlier, and our parents had been so proud [Well, his anyways.], they gave us a small lump of money to get started. Without their knowledge, we had pooled our money and bought a small house in San Luis Obispo. The bank had paid for most of it. Luckily for us, I had a job as an architect there for the time, so the loan wasn't too bad. We were so happy. We had a home, food, and each other.
But things were not as good as they seemed. David wanted me to stop drinking, he said that I was nearly unbearable when I got drunk, and that it was bad for my health. At the time, I didn't pay attention to him. I was getting a little rough on him, giving him soft punches, pushing him aside, I even got to the point where I was throwing things at him, and thought nothing of it. I kick myself for being such an ass nowadays, but back then, I thought that David was the one that was being an ass.
Then one day, my dad dropped in for a visit. He was a grayed panther, a little shorter than me, about 6'2''. He later said he was passing through the city, and wanted to see me. I had told him about the house, my job, etc., but I had conveniently left out the part that David was my boyfriend and was living with me. I had also left out the fact that I was gay, and that I had had sex with David more times than I can count. So imagine his surprise when David answers the door in a fishnet shirt and lycra shorts.
"Uh, good morning. Does Tavis Kenningcot live here?"
"Yeah. I'm David Halse, nice to meet you, Mr. ?
"Kenningcot, I'm Tavis' father Samuel Kenningcot."
"You're his father? Wow. Come in, he's going to be so surprised!"
David didn't know I hadn't told my father, and let him in. I was in our room, picking up, and sniffing, some of David's thongs, when I heard him call me.
"Tavis! There's someone here to see you."
I dropped the thongs and stepped out of the room, and staggered back when I saw my dad looking into one of David's more erotic magazines. I didn't see David anywhere, so he had probably left to give us some time together to catch up. Too bad that wasn't going to happen.
"Son, is there something you want to tell me about your friend?"
"Dad, don't be like that he's a good per-"
"Didn't I always tell you not to get involved with fags? All they can think about is perverting decent men like you to having sex with them. How many times did I tell you that fags deserve to get shot on the spot. Didn't I tell you that all they're good for is spreading disease? I want you to tell your 'friend' to get out of the fucking house, then I want you to get rid of everything he's given you, and forget about him. I don't want you turning into a slut like him."
I was furious. He was always like this when he saw two guys loving each other. He thought gay was a disease, and if it were up to him, David would have been killed long ago.
"No! David is not just my friend, he's-"
"What are you saying? Have you fucked him?! Tell me! If I find out that you've had sex with that fag I will disown you. No son of mine is a pervert."
"You know what dad? You're right no son of yours is a pervert. I love David, and if you can't be happy, leave!"
He looked at me like if I was a pest. He punched me hard in the jaw, and I dropped like a stone. He spit on me and left, leaving me furious at him for being such a bigot. I went into the kitchen to wash my face a little, and began to drink. For about an hour, I drank and simmered with anger. By the time David got home, I was well past drunk and unreasonable. When he saw me, he rushed up to me.
"Tavis! What happened? Oh God, you had told your father hadn't you?"
My mind was blurred with the alcohol. I didn't care that he was my lover, or my friend. All I thought of was my dad, and how angry I was, and David was in the way. I punched him hard in the gut, and sent him flying. He hit a table, knocking everything over. I wasn't thinking at all. I just saw a way to get rid of some anger, and the alcohol did the rest.
-Cough! Cough!- "Tavis, stop. Don't do this."
I was too drunk to realize what I was doing. I extended my claws, and slashed him several times across the chest. I heard him cry out in pain, and he began to sob and cry. I threw him against a wall, leaving a dent in it. I walked to him, turning over tables and chairs on my way. I grabbed him by the back, and he whimpered for me to stop, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. I threw him towards the fireplace, and as he landed, I heard a sickening squish that made my hair stand. My vision suddenly cleared, and I saw the fireplace poker sticking out of his back. I had thrown David on top of the tools, and the poker had gone right through him.
" '-hoarsely- I . . . love . . . y-you.' "
My drunkenness dissolved away, and my mind clarified. Horror shot through me, and I rushed to his body to see what I had done. Blood was beginning to pool around the floor, and I saw that the poker was facing up. [Why the fuck didn't I put the damn thing facing down.] I panicked, and held his hand, and to my great relief, I felt a weak pulse.
Without notice, klaxons began screaming all around me, and several blue lights turned on around me.
"Code Blue! Code Blue! De-fib teams to room K 204. Code Blue! De-fib teams to room K 204."
When the PA said 'Code Blue', my heart raced, but K 204 was not David's room.
That night, an ambulance had arrived and David was taken to the Sierra Vista Medical Center. I went along, holding David's hand all the way. No one asked what had happened, they probably knew anyway. When we arrived, doctors took David into the ER, and sent out a nurse to talk to me. She was an older mink, and she asked me what had happened. I, however, was in no state to answer. All I could say was it's my fault.
"Calm down. What happened? Was it an accident?"
"It's my fault. It's all my fault."
"Were you drunk? You smell of alcohol."
"I hurt him, it's all my fault."
My mind just kept repeating itself like a broken record. I heard nothing but David's cries, I saw nothing but David bleeding, and all my nose could smell was the acrid scent of his blood.
I didn't sleep for two days, and it showed. When I went to the hospital to see David once he woke, the nurses rushed me off to the washrooms to get cleaned. I took a shower, but my mind was still repeating the same images, smells, and sounds. I was taken in to see David, but under police supervision. David was in a bed, breathing softly and with his eyes closed. He must have heard me, because he opened his eyes, and turned his head towards me.
"Hey Love, I guess I took a bad step."
Tears came to my eyes and streamed down my face. I didn't deserve David. Anyone else would have told me he never wanted to see me again. Anyone else would have told the police I tried to kill him. But not David. David still loved me. I never spoke to the police. David had told them he fell while dancing on a table. He lied, saying that the scratches were from our lovemaking. The police, of course, were skeptical at best. They searched the house, but I had cleaned everything before. And without David, they couldn't do anything.
"Officer, could I talk to Tavis in private?"
The policeman nodded and left. He stood outside the door, since technically he wasn't supposed to leave us alone.
"What did your dad say? It must've been terrible. You wouldn't have been drunk."
"I never told him. He called you a slut, and I'm guessing by now he's disowned me. He's always hated gays. But it's not his fault. -sob I could've -sob- killed you!"
I couldn't hold back the tears. I sobbed for what seemed like hours. David just patted my head, and rubbed my shoulders.
"Shhh. There, there. I'll be fine. So I won't be able to run a marathon. Not like I was planning to anyways. Besides, scars are macho. It'll make me look tough."
That made me laugh, and David laughed too. David's a foot smaller than me, and a little effeminate, so the image that came to my mind looked hilarious: a tough, leathered David dusting around the house. I put my arms around him, and held him softly.
"You were right; I should've stopped drinking long ago. I threw away all the liquor I had. I'll never touch alcohol again. If you stay with me, I'll never let anything hurt you again. Never."
"What makes you think I was going to leave you? You screwed up, badly. But I love you. You already told your dad we're lovers. It'd be a shame to make you a liar."
He smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.
I kept my promise. I never touched liquor again. Steve wasn't too happy about that, but he understands. I went a bit overboard on the protecting thing. It was getting to the point where I was denying David happiness. Poor David. The most decent people in life are always the ones getting hurt.
[One of these days, I should call in sick, and spend all day with David.] I still have to decide whether or not to tell David about Chris. Perhaps it might be the right thing to do, but I still don't trust him. _I got up, stretched a bit, and headed out to get some real food.
Well, I hope you liked this chapter. It took a bloody long time to write. PLEASE send any comment my way, all are greatly appreciated. The next chapter should be up in a little while, maybe a day or two, and should be about as long as this._