CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The appointment with the doctor was in the afternoon. Ben announced he’d take Radulf to the park early, get some shopping in and be back in time so he could drive.
They couldn’t park outside the smart Harley Street address, so Ben double-parked and Nikolas climbed out. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll swing by again.” Nikolas shook his head. “I’ll get a taxi back.” He adjusted his immaculate suit, which didn’t need any adjustment at all, and breezed into the imposing building as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
When he was called in, Nikolas and the doctor eyed each other openly for a moment, judging and assessing. Dr Andrea Gillian’s slightly patronising smirk told Nikolas that she was well aware she didn’t fit most people’s expectations of a trauma specialist. He eyed her petite femininity with alarm. He didn’t like women particularly, and his recent experiences had done nothing to endear them to him. This doctor was disconcerting, and he wasn’t at his best to start with. Summoning his aloof air of cool disinterest, he sat obediently to her gesture of welcome and faced her, masks in place.
“So, what appears to be the problem, Mr Mikkelsen? You look as if you’ve been in the wars.”
“Yes.”
“You have a head injury? Do you mind…?” She rose and came out from behind her desk, all four foot nothing and heels. Nikolas tipped his head to one side obediently as she felt around his scarring. He closed his eyes. This close, the intimacy of being touched by a stranger, a woman, was overpowering. “You told my nurse this happened recently in Denmark, I believe?”
“Yes. An ice hockey game.”
“It’s healing very well indeed.” She moved over to the other side, probing where Gabby had originally hit him with one of Ben’s pine logs, they’d concluded, then she returned to her dominant position behind the desk. “So, what brings you here today?”
Nikolas pursed his lips. He wanted to claim something dramatic and manly…an amputation, possibly?—gunshot?—but eventually he reluctantly admitted, “I have headaches.”
She sat up a little higher and began to take notes. “Have you ever suffered from headaches in the past?”
“No.”
“Previous head injury? Particularly in that area?”
“Possibly. I don’t recall.”
“All right. Tell me, when did the headaches start?”
He gave her a look and waved at his scar vaguely. She gave him a pained smile. “What I meant is, was there a delay of a few days, or did you notice the headaches immediately?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Okay.” She tapped her pen against her mouth, regarding him for a moment. “Are you married?”
He frowned. “No.”
“In a relationship?”
“Why is that relevant?”
“I need to know if there’s anyone who sees you regularly enough to notice changes in behaviour patterns. Is there someone like that, Mr Mikkelsen?”
“No.”
“Okay. So, headaches…what else?”
“I get…confused sometimes.”
Again with the sitting up. It was really annoying him. She’d be crap at poker. “In what way?”
“I misinterpret things.”
“You’re seeing things?”
“No. Yes.”
“Things you know in reality can’t actually be there?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“I’m…behaving uncharacteristically.”
“Okay. Do you smoke, Mr Mikkelsen?”
“No.”
“Have you ever smoked?”
“No.”
“Drink? More than, say, a social glass of wine at the weekends?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s extremely important in these situations. Critical. Do you eat a healthy diet?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And your lifestyle in general? Would you say it was relatively stress free? As much as any of us can be these days?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Yes.”
“And what about exercise? Do you keep fit? Running perhaps, or cycling—being Danish.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“There’s bad news?”
She smiled, he thought, rather patronisingly. “The bad news is you’ll have to give up ice hockey.”
Oh, she was very funny. He didn’t smile. She did and continued, “The good news is I believe there’s nothing wrong with you that time and a healthy lifestyle won’t cure. I’ll schedule an MRI just to be certain, however. What you’ve experienced is extremely common in cases of head injuries—even minor ones. It’s very good you don’t drink or smoke and that you lead such a healthy lifestyle. That will aid your recovery exponentially.”
“Yes. That’s good then.”
“Keep up your fitness regime. Nothing you do now, other than taking another blow to the head, will be harmful. Be as active as you can. I’d recommend staying as stress free as possible…people who suffer from post-injury conditions such as yours often report having undergone an additional stressful period just after the original injury. Studies indicate stress increases the likelihood of someone experiencing these sorts of episodes.”
“Episodes?”
“Hallucinations, physical weakness, headaches, loss of vision, occasional loss of motor skills. Have you noticed any problems recently in the bedroom?”
“Lack of a decent laundry service?”
She smiled. Faintly. “So, it’s all good news, really. Eat, sleep, rest, no alcohol, no smoking. I assume, given your healthy lifestyle, you don’t do recreational drugs?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, good then. I’d like to see you back in a month. In the meantime, it can be helpful to keep a record—a journal if you like—of any incidents. I can give you something to help with the headaches and calm the hallucinations, but this will only be a short-term solution. Both will go once the stress of the accident reduces. But remember, focus on the things you can do and you enjoy. Indulge them as much as possible.”
Nikolas smiled for the first time since entering the office. “Yes.”
“So, I’ll have my receptionist inform you about the MRI.” He nodded and rose.
“Oh, Mr Mikkelsen?” He turned, his hand on the doorknob. “Word to the wise? Don’t treat a doctor’s examination like a police interrogation next time. I’m not going to arrest you for drinking, smoking, doing recreational drugs, not eating or taking any exercise at all—or judge you for being beaten up by an elderly, female librarian.” She smiled and shuffled her papers. “You’re very lucky in Mr Benjamin Rider. If I were you, I’d indulge a little more in him and a little less in some of your other hedonistic activities. Good day.”
He decided not to play her at poker after all.
It was raining when he stepped out into the rapidly darkening day. He pulled the lapels of his overcoat higher then plunged his hands into his pockets. He stared at the wet pavement for a while, until he felt the rain dripping off his hair. He slicked the wayward strands back and felt the rough scarring on his fingers. For one moment, he felt utterly disassociated from the body he was occupying as if he’d merely borrowed it for a while. Or stolen it. As if he, Aleksey, hadn’t taken his twin’s identity, but his body, swapping into it and leaving his more familiar one on a pavement in Russia, smashed and broken and dead. Whosever’s it was, he hadn’t taken very good care of it.
He’d thought he was dying.
He’d thought she would put her deft fingers to his head and find Gabby had killed him after all; except this death wouldn’t be sharp and obvious and something he could fight. He was a soldier. He was Aleksey Primakov. He’d thought there was nothing in this world he couldn’t fight and defeat, but he’d let fear of sickness take him down as effectively as her tyre iron would’ve done had she not encountered a force fiercer than her psychosis. Fear had stalked him back from Aeroe, watched him and discovered his weaknesses and his secrets.
But he wasn’t dying. As far as he could make out, he’d been told there was nothing wrong with him that more sex with Ben Rider wouldn’t cure. Private medicine was a wonderful thing. He felt like a cigarette to celebrate but toed the ground once more, thinking about this. He decided to walk home. It was still raining, but he lifted his face to its coolness as he walked along. He had a lot to think about.
§ § §
Ben went out for a run while Nikolas was at the doctor. He desperately needed the pain and effort to take his mind off what was happening at home. He pushed himself, fighting the cold. Naturally very fit, it never took him long if he’d had a break from running to get back up to his natural peak. He’d lost his edge on Aeroe, but he’d been extremely fit just before—He didn’t think about that and what’d happened in a bathroom one night.
Running in London was too flat and easy. He preferred the steep excesses of Wales or the Lake District where a man could lose his identity in pain.
It was in the back of his mind as he ran that Nikolas would by now have discovered his pre-emptive visit to the doctor this morning. He’d gone on impulse but on the sure and certain belief that when Nikolas went he’d reveal nothing personal to the doctor at all; he would choose a mask and wear it until it suffocated him. Sometimes Ben wondered if there actually was one real personality left behind all the masks Nikolas chose to wear, or whether the masks were now just revolving facets of a fractured man. He was not looking forward to Nikolas’s reaction to his visit. He felt confusion again over the extent of this…relationship thing. Although Nikolas was making an effort—had made a supreme effort since the events on Aeroe—Ben never really felt he knew where the limits lay between what was Nikolas’s personal business and what were their shared concerns.
Was Nikolas’s health legitimately something he should be involved with? Where were the rules for these things laid down? He wished there was a handbook he could to refer to: “Haynes Manual—Nikolas Mikkelsen Mk II.” Nikolas seemed to think anything in Ben’s life was his concern as well. He appeared lately to have taken over his bank account; he was dealing with the executors of John Redvers’s will; he decided pretty much everything Ben did or thought. Despite their recent advances, it was still very much a one-way relationship. And where did that leave you when it all went wrong? It left you back at your mum and dad’s or squatting with friends if you were lucky. It got you replaced by an eighteen-year-old. When would Nikolas decide he’d had enough of this version of Ben and trade him in for someone who didn’t try to manage his life, to have a proper relationship, to be an equal? Benjamin Rider Mk II. Sure, Nikolas had lain in his arms and allowed himself to be babied the previous evening, but that was once in their entire relationship, and he was probably dying of a tumour, or brain swelling or—Ben clenched his jaw on these thoughts and pushed harder, finding a set of steps to sprint up and down until that thought was squeezed out by pain. He ran on.
He was soaked now with sweat and freezing rain. His knee was aching and would be swollen and stiff tomorrow. But he didn’t care much for thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow, they’d both know how much longer Nikolas had. Or would they? Would Nikolas actually tell him anything of what the doctor discovered today? The doctor wouldn’t. Sure, she’d listened to him—he hadn’t actually given her much choice—but she wouldn’t, out of professional confidentially, tell him about Nikolas’s condition unless Nikolas wanted her to. And knowing Nikolas, he wouldn’t want anything discussed. Ben ran into a park and jumped for the bar over a set of children’s swings and did some pull-ups for a while until his arms were as painful as his legs. Just picturing Nikolas’s silent, stubborn decline made him so angry he was having shouting matches in his head with the stubborn Danish bastard. He lost those as well.
Finally, he could run no further and punish himself no more. He slowed to a jog and headed for home.
Tim had returned to Devon for the day to start on the depressing job of looking for somewhere new to live, so Ben was expecting the house to be empty when he returned. There was a light on in the kitchen, however. He frowned. He entered slowly and saw Nikolas still in his suit, sitting at the table with a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes. Nikolas immediately rose. “What’s happened to you? You’re soaked! Why are you limping?”
“What? Did you—? What did she—? What the hell is this?” He picked up the vodka then sat heavily in the chair opposite Nikolas, clutching the bottle. He was shivering, but it was only from the cold.
Nikolas sighed deeply then flicked the cigarette pack across the table at him as well. “You’re not a very good minder, Ben. I had these hidden, too. So, take them, take the vodka. I’m done.”
“You’re done! What the fuck do you mean you’re done? Oh, God, what did she say?”
Nikolas rose swiftly and pulled Ben to his feet. “Upstairs. Shower. All is well. I’ll tell you while you shower.” Ben limped up and stripped off his soaking running clothes. Nik handed him a towel, and Ben sat on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me now.”
Nik sat next to him and rummaged in his pocket. He handed the bottles of pills he’d been given to Ben. “One of each, every twelve hours. One for the headaches and one for the hallucin—other things.” He clenched his jaw, as if even admitting that word would weaken him and concluded, “That was it. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“What! No, that can’t be. Did you tell her everything…? I knew you—”
“I told her everything. I was totally honest. What’s the point of seeing a doctor unless you’re honest to a fault? Please give me some credit.”
“Nothing wrong? What about the seeing things?”
Nikolas gritted his teeth. “It’s all perfectly normal, apparently, and it’ll stop.” He tapped one of the little bottles. “I’ve a minor head injury from which I’ll recover fully—if I keep to my current healthy lifestyle, that is.”
Ben was speechless for a moment. “What healthy lifestyle?”
Nikolas smirked suddenly. “That’s what I thought, too.”
Ben gave him a really angry look and suddenly punched Nik on the arm. “So, what you’re saying is you brought this on yourself by drinking and smoking and—Stop it!”
Nikolas was still laughing. He seemed to find his own stupidity quite funny. Ben was shaking from rage as much as from the cold now. Suddenly, Nikolas twisted and straddled him, forcing him down on the bed. “You need to warm up.”
Ben put a hand up and cupped his cheek. “Are you telling me the truth about this?”
“Would I lie to you?”
Ben would’ve answered, but they were too busy kissing. He rolled Nikolas off him and lay alongside, slowly unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt, sliding cold hands in on warm skin. He peeled the shirt open, exposing the beautiful bare chest then slid his hand lower and cupped Nik through the suit. He propped himself up on his elbow, working Nikolas through the cloth until he arched and stopped him. Nikolas stood and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. He climbed back on, straddling Ben once more. His skin was warm everywhere, Ben’s still cold. It was an interesting contrast and one that needed exploring and equalising. While they were still at this stage, just kissing and playing, Nikolas murmured almost too softly for Ben to hear, “I may need your assistance.” Ben rose from where he was kissing and came up to face him. “I’ll need your help, Ben—to give up. It seems I can’t do it alone.” It was possibly the biggest concession Ben had ever heard Nikolas make.
Ben quirked him a smile, trying not to make too much of it or Nikolas would back off from him again. “Cigarettes?”
“Yes.”
“Booze?”
Nikolas pouted. “Yes.”
“And the only pills you take are these? One of each, every twelve hours.”
Nikolas looked less amenable to this but finally nodded.
Ben pursed his lips for a moment, thinking. “Do you actually know how to run? I’ve never seen…”
§ § §
Nikolas would tolerate a certain amount of teasing from Ben, but basically Ben still needed to remember his position. Now that he wasn’t dying, Nikolas decided to celebrate by spending the rest of the afternoon reminding Ben who was boss. But then he was under doctor’s orders to have Ben Rider as often as he could. Who was he to argue with the medical profession?
By the time Tim returned, they were in the kitchen, examining the food to see if there was anything that didn’t need cooking. He glanced at Nikolas and nodded to Ben. Nikolas straightened. “Have you eaten?”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Me? No. I mean—”
“Come, we’ll go out. You should both eat more healthily.” He took them to Dinner at Heston again, where they’d met Gregory. This time, the atmosphere at the table was very different. Nikolas had taken the pills given to him by Andrea Gillian and was pain free for the first time in what seemed like a very long time. He was trying to ignore, however, that the waiters appeared to be passing directly through the glass wall to the kitchen. Stress was bad for him. Apparently. He smiled occasionally and watched Ben. It was enough. At one point in the evening, he saw Ben was staring at the table, and he glanced down to find himself drumming his fingers urgently. He hadn’t been aware he was doing it. He’d been focusing on not thinking about smoking and not going over to the table next to them and relieving the woman of her red wine, which she’d been toying with for at least the last half hour. Instead of a reprimand, which Nikolas expected, he felt Ben’s socked foot tucking up under the leg of his suit. He looked away and smiled, concentrating on the odd but very pleasant sensation, and the next time he was aware of anything, he was drinking some water and his fingers were still. The bitch at the table was still sipping wine and making ridiculous eyes at the man sitting opposite her, however, but Nikolas was able to turn his attention from them and back to his companions.
Ben was telling Tim something of their experiences on Aeroe. He was skirting around the actual events and was, therefore, extremely surprised when Nikolas interrupted mildly, “Tell him I was taken out by a librarian, Ben. I’m not ashamed. At least it wasn’t a college professor.”
Tim looked theatrically wounded. “I’ll have you know they breed us tough in the ethics department.”
The blood oozing out of Tim’s eyes distracted Nikolas, but he answered calmly, “Tell me about John. He’s your shrapnel. Ben and I will help you exorcise him tonight.”
Tim raised his glass—he was the only one not on water. “Actually, you helped quite a lot the other morning in the shower.”
Nikolas bowed his head in a mock acknowledgement of the compliment. The waiter arrived to take their order. Nikolas thought his hallucinations were getting more interesting until, after the waiter had gone, both his table companions collapsed in laughter at the huge and very obvious erection the man had been concealing badly in too tight trousers. The drumming had begun again. He nodded at the others and excused himself from the table. In the bathroom, he was staring at himself in the mirror when Ben came in. He flicked his glance across, slightly annoyed. “You don’t have to monitor me. I’m not a child sneaking out to smoke, Benjamin.”
“Yeah, you kinda are.” He slid his arms around Nikolas from the back and peered at both their reflections over his shoulder. “You think you’ll ever trade me in for a younger version?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. After all the training I’ve invested in you, it would be a pity to have to start again. But I wouldn’t be so lenient with my next protégé, more obedience and less cheek.”
“Protégé? Interesting delusion. I guess I’d be quite valuable out on the open market again. I was enslaved before I reached my full potential. Now I could name my price.”
Nikolas pulled Ben harder against his backside, enjoying the obvious erection he could now feel grinding into him. “You’d undersell yourself. Let me take charge of the negotiations. I’ve the inside knowledge to capitalise on all your assets.”
Ben began kissing into Nikolas’s neck which Ben always claimed smelt so good. He ground himself shamelessly against the hard backside. “How about we do some of that capitalising now?” He took Nikolas’s arm and began to draw him back toward one of the cubicles.
Nikolas jerked his head away a little. “You’re out of your mind. Since when do we behave―?”
“Since you need distracting. Besides, if we get caught, you can say it was for medical reasons. Doctor’s orders.”
Nikolas laughed, and Ben exploited his amusement to get him into the cubicle and lock the door. He pushed Nikolas against the wall, and they kissed, both hard, engaging their swellings, rubbing and grinding. In this situation, this place, Nikolas drew the line at being taken, so with a last, long kiss, he flattened Ben to the wall, moving determinedly around behind him. Things were just getting interesting, Ben’s trousers in the necessary position, Nikolas teasing him with two fingers, when the outer door opened and two men came in talking loudly. They’d clearly had a lot to drink. Ben twisted his head around to look at Nikolas. Nikolas shrugged, smiled, put his other hand over Ben’s mouth and rammed home. Ben’s eyes widened, a flash of green, then he closed them in pain, his long, almost girlish lashes fanned on his cheekbones. Nikolas was enjoying the view. It was a long time since they’d been this close in quite such bright fluorescent lighting. Fortunately, the men were still laughing and talking, banging their respective cubicle doors, running taps and hand dryers, so the inevitable and unavoidable noises from the middle cubicle went unobserved. Nikolas knew Ben was now past the pain and in a place where there was nothing but pleasure. Nikolas revelled in the long, lean body welcoming him as he thrust. He bit into the back of Ben’s neck, tasting him. He allowed himself these treats for a moment longer but then eased himself out and murmured, “More would be messy and awkward, no?”
Ben nodded reluctantly. They rearranged each other as best they could and emerged back into the main area, washing hands and straightening ties as any two men might. Ben was flushed, colour high and gorgeous on his cheekbones. Nikolas, looking at his reflection, commented dryly, “A medical breakthrough, Ben Rider—take once every two hours for an addiction-free life.”
“Did I work?”
Nikolas held out a steady hand. Ben smiled and turned to leave, but Nikolas caught his arm, listened for a moment to see if they were likely to be disturbed, and then kissed him, murmuring, “Thank you.” When he saw the spark of happiness in Ben’s eyes at that tiny, inadequate acknowledgment, Nikolas was reminded once more of why he loved Ben Rider. For all the things Nikolas bought Ben, gave him, organised for him, it was a simple thank you from him that actually brought Ben the most pleasure. Nikolas was chastened and resolved to do better.
When the food arrived, Nikolas only ate sparingly as he was feeling disorientated and shaky, although he gave himself credit none of this was showing, but he enjoyed watching Ben and Tim work their way through some desserts and then cheese and coffee. He still couldn’t tolerate the smell of coffee but was pleased to discover he didn’t have a flashback to the hunting shed, which he’d been doing every time he’d smelt it up to this point. Nothing seemed too untoward in the restaurant either. One diner appeared to have a rat in her handbag, but on closer study it turned out to be a dog, and he reckoned in a place like this it was wholly reasonable to conclude there actually was a dog in a handbag across from him.
It was toward the end of the evening, thinking about his resolve to be more forthcoming with Ben and half listening to Tim talk about his upcoming series of lectures, when his great idea occurred to him. It was the best idea he’d had in ages. He mulled it over, viewing it from all angles and could see no real flaw. He knew he ought to consult Ben first, but Ben was used to his high-handedness by now. If Ben objected, he’d play the sickness card, which he intended to milk as much as possible now that he wasn’t actually dying. He considered Tim for a while and then asked casually, “Where will you stay while you conduct these lectures?”
“I’m not sure. They have student accommodation they’ve offered me, but it’s pretty grotty.”
“I’d like to make a suggestion.” He glanced across at Ben. “Ben and I need a holiday. You may stay in our house if you agree to look after Radulf while we’re away.” As a huge concession to keep the peace and because he wanted to get back inside Ben as soon as they got home (without having to do the talking thing), he turned to him and added, “If that’s all right with you.”
Ben chuckled and looked down at the table, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re so obvious sometimes.” He flicked a glance up through lowered lashes. Nikolas swallowed deeply and tried to return his attention to Tim.
Tim clearly thought it was an excellent idea, so it was decided. “Where are you planning to go?”
Nikolas pursed his lips as they stood to go. “Somewhere hot where no one reads.”