And If Thou Wilt, Forget

The weather for the week was bitterly cold, but mostly clear. Once Gerry had a day to recover, they ventured out into the streets of Chicago to see the sights. Gerry had never done the tourist thing—even when he’d gone to Italy to get out of the country for a bit after getting out of prison, he’d been trying to avoid people and therefore hadn’t done much more than hide in out of the way cafés and bookstores, and most of the time when he traveled it was with a purpose. Tim, the veteran of dozens of family vacations and solo trips, was determined to give him the full experience, even if it did have the specter of the upcoming appointment looming over it. He didn’t exactly plan it down to the minute, but he had a few destinations in mind, and he was determined they would hit as many as they could.

Gerry went along willingly. His breakdown in the shower seemed to have done him some good—which was more or less what Tim had expected, God knew he needed to let himself have emotions sometimes—and he seemed calmer, lighter even, as they walked or taxied around the city to various can’t-miss destinations. They visited the Art Institute of Chicago, where Gerry gave Tim the history of almost every single painting and waxed surprisingly poetic about the artistic techniques and Tim surprised him by quietly singing a song from a musical that was loosely inspired by one of them, and the Field Museum, where they had a lighthearted debate over whether SUE could have been an avatar of one of the Fears in life. They strolled the Riverwalk, visited a jazz club that was apparently world-famous, and dined at restaurants Tim had solicited recommendations to from the staff, stressing as he did so that they wanted to try where the locals ate, not where the tourists went. They even managed—somehow—to get tickets to a game played between the local team and a team called the Buccaneers, and while neither of them understood the rules to American football, they agreed it had been worth the visit, if only for the experience. An usher, overhearing their conversation, had suggested they come back in the spring to see a baseball game, and they’d politely agreed to try, even though both of them doubted they would make it.

The stress had returned the morning of Gerry’s follow-up appointment, and Tim had simply held his hand on the taxi ride to the hospital, but in the end there was nothing to worry about. Dr. Greene removed the stitches and declared that Gerry was healing remarkably well. He asked a few questions about Gerry’s pain level, decided he could finish up the current round of medications and not need to renew them, and released him with a reminder to follow up with “your regular doctor” when he got back to London. Another admonition from Debbie—who had, as she promised, popped in to say hello—about staying away from the cigarettes, and they were free to go.

“So I guess we’re heading to—what’s it called—O’Hare, then?” Gerry asked as they stepped out of the front doors into the biting cold. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing a puff of steam. “Heigh-ho and off for home?”

Tim was reaching for his phone when a nearby church tower began chiming, tolling the hour. He counted the strokes, then shook his head. “Well, we missed checkout for today, anyway, so I guess we’re leaving tomorrow. And no, we’re heading to Union Station.”

“Why? You’re still on about me not flying for a bit?”

“For another five weeks, yeah. So not until after Christmas at the earliest. And anyway…” Tim hesitated. They hadn’t actually discussed what came next. “Come on. I was saving this one for today because I thought we’d need a bit more time. We can talk there.”

Gerry sighed tolerantly, but followed along without argument. Tim knew that the only reason he was getting away with this was that Gerry trusted him absolutely—that he knew Tim would explain everything, and that if he wasn’t saying it now, it was for a very good reason. And it was—primarily that standing in front of the hospital wasn’t the place to talk about things like this, but also that he wanted to get at least a start on a good day before they discussed it.

Their destination was the Navy Pier, which, according to the concierge at the hotel, was just one of those places you had to visit when you went to Chicago. Tim had picked up a brochure from the lobby, but he hadn’t done much more than skim it, so he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect other than water of some kind. It turned out to not be that different from Brighton Pier, save that Tim couldn’t see an arcade of any kind. Still, there were a number of rides, including a giant wheel looming over the space, plus shops and restaurants, the tantalizing odors mingling pleasantly in the air. Even as cold as it was, and even though it was the middle of the day on a Monday, the place was still bustling. Beyond the crowd they could just make out the masts of a tall ship, probably some kind of reenactment or museum, as well as a more modern boat steaming back to dock. Past that was a vast, sparkling world of water.

“Huh,” Gerry said, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. “I can’t smell the sea from here.” He paused, then added, “Actually, I thought Illinois was landlocked.”

“That’s not the sea. It’s Lake Michigan,” Tim told him. “It’s one of the Great Lakes, and the only one that’s fully in the United States instead of being shared with Canada. Second-largest by volume, third-largest by surface area. Anyway, it’s a freshwater lake, so you wouldn’t smell any salt.”

“Seriously, how do you know that?”

“It’s in all those tourist guides in the hotel lobby. I had to do something to keep myself sane when they kicked me out of your hospital room, and I didn’t bring any books with me.” Tim looped his arm through Gerry’s. “Where do you want to start? We’ve got all day.”

Gerry gazed up thoughtfully at the wheel. “Think that’s too high for my cracked brain to handle?”

Tim grinned. Perfect. “Please. Our hotel room is probably further up than that. C’mon.”

They took their time getting to the wheel, which they really didn’t have much of a choice about; a large horde of children, evidently a school group of some kind, got in their way and they had to work to avoid them—and avoid getting trampled by them. At last, however, they made it to the ticket booth, joined the queue, waited patiently, and eventually climbed into a bucket. The attendant lowered the bar onto their lap, and they were off.

To his credit, Gerry waited until they had risen slightly and the car had stopped briefly, presumably to let the next set of riders on, before he turned to Tim. “So. What’s the plan? I assume you have one. We can’t exactly get to London without flying.”

“We’re not going to London.” Tim patted his coat and hoped Gerry could hear the muffled thunk as he hit the folio Gertrude had given him. He was afraid to leave it in the hotel room. Maybe Gertrude’s paranoia was rubbing off on him a bit. “Not for a while yet, anyway. Gertrude told me before she left that she wants us to keep looking for those answers you two were after. We’re going to Pittsburgh. She left me her notes on what she was planning to do when she got there, and she’s gone back to London herself. We’re going to pick up where she—where you—left off, and…go from there.”

Gerry blinked, then clutched at the bar as the car got moving again. “She trusts us that much?”

“Yeah. She does. Not just to continue the work, but to figure out where to go after, which tells me she doesn’t think we’ll be coming back to London any time soon. I can’t imagine this will take that much longer, you guys had already been gone five months when she called me out here, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“I guess so.” Gerry slid his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “Just…it’s been two weeks. I’m worried that whatever we’re supposed to be finding…what if the trail’s gone cold? What if we’ve lost the chance?”

Tim shrugged and leaned into Gerry’s side. “Gertrude’s not stupid. She had to have known we’d be stuck here a bit. Even said I would ‘officially be on leave’ until we set off for Pittsburgh. If it was really time-sensitive, I don’t think she’d have told us it could wait. She’d have kept going, waited until I called to say we were ready to leave Chicago, and told us where to either meet her or pick up the trail, and then gone back to London.”

“Good point, as always,” Gerry admitted. “Okay. If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I guess it’s on to Pittsburgh tomorrow night.”

The whole trip on the wheel, including a spectacular view of the city and lake when they stopped for a few moments at the apex, lasted about seven minutes, and the sparkle in Gerry’s eyes told Tim he’d enjoyed himself. They walked the Pier hand in hand, trying a few more of the rides that appealed to them and browsing the shops. The river cruises had apparently stopped for the winter, but they got drinks, sat on the end of the pier, and watched the sunset together. Once the lights came on around them, they made their way off the pier in search of dinner, then went back to the hotel. Gerry, who was after all still recovering, fell asleep almost immediately with one arm flung across Tim, but Tim stayed up a bit longer with his laptop. He booked two train tickets to Pittsburgh, found another extended stay hotel in the same chain as the one they were in now—since it was a national chain, he’d signed up for a rewards membership, figuring it would probably help in the long run if they were in the country for a while—and reserved their room, then forwarded the information to Gertrude.

Somehow, even though it was well past midnight in London, he wasn’t surprised when he got an email from her almost immediately, welcoming him back to work and telling him to be careful.

They checked out the next morning. As they stepped out into the sunlight, Tim turned to Gerry. “We don’t have to be to the station until after five. There’s only one train out of Chicago and it doesn’t leave until twenty to seven. How do you want to spend the day?”

Gerry actually smiled mischievously. “Funny you should mention that. There is one thing I’d really like to do.” He took Tim’s hand. “Come on. We can stop at the station on the way and check our bags for the day so we don’t have to carry them around.”

Tim was thrilled to see Gerry looking so…normal. He’d have done anything he asked at that point.

They duly paid twenty dollars to have their bags stored, and then Gerry led Tim out into the streets. He’d evidently gotten directions from somewhere to…wherever they were going…or else he was making a pretty damn good guess. Either way, they stopped along the way for breakfast, then took a leisurely stroll along the streets until they reached an open park in the middle of the city, labeled Millennium Park.

“I can get behind this,” Tim said, smiling at the sign. “Love a good bit of green space. Even if it’s mostly white now.” It had evidently snowed in the night; the grass sparkled, even in the low light from the overcast sky, with an icy crust.

“Just wait,” Gerry promised. “There’s something here I really think you’ll like.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Not sure why. It just seems like your thing.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued.”

They ambled through the park. A lot of people seemed to be heading in one particular direction. Tim found out why when they emerged on a large plaza and discovered an enormous sculpture that could only be described as a mirrored bean. He blinked. “What the hell is that?”

“You don’t know?” Gerry said. His tone was incredulous, but there was a teasing grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know everything in the world. Just the important stuff,” Tim shot back, making Gerry laugh. “Hang on, there’s a sign.”

The sculpture turned out to be called Cloud Gate. Tim had never heard of it before, but he was surprised that he recognized the artist, Anish Kapoor. He turned to point this out to Gerry, then noticed the look on his face as he stared at the artwork. Instantly on edge, he asked, “What? What is it?”

“Just…look at it,” Gerry murmured, tearing his eyes away and staring at the ground. “Tell me if I’m imagining things.”

Tim looked. Cloud Gate’s reflective surface was mostly flat matte clouds, the day being so overcast, although the vague impressions of the various tourists and visitors clustered under it taking pictures were much in evidence. He was about to ask for clarification when he found his gaze drawn to the inner arch of the shape. Two reflections seemed to cross, and for just a moment, he felt disorientated and…sideways. As though Cloud Gate was showing him the real world and he was the reflection.

A reflection turned, and seemed to make eye contact with him. Tim quickly cut his eyes away and stared at his and Gerry’s joined hands until the weird almost vertigo and headache dissipated. He slowly loosened his grip; he was squeezing so hard that his finger had puffed up and was straining at the ring beneath the gloves, so he had to be hurting Gerry.

“No,” he told him. “I don’t think you’re imagining things. I should’ve guessed from Kapoor’s other works that he’s at least seen the Spiral.”

“Yeah.” Gerry took a deep breath and tightened his hand around Tim’s, then tugged. “Come on. This isn’t what I wanted to bring you here for anyway.”

Tim followed without too much complaint. The sculpture wasn’t super involved with the Spiral; it was just that Kapoor had obviously been Marked by it, and he’d just as obviously put a bit of it into his work—wasn’t it said that all great artists put a bit of themselves into their art? Still, he made a mental note to mention it to Gertrude. If it was going to be used in a ritual, she’d probably like to be aware of it.

His mood lifted the further they got from the plaza where the sculpture was, and from the way Gerry straightened, his obviously had as well. They continued ambling through the park for a while, and then Gerry let out a soft, satisfied-sounding ah and quickened his steps. “There it is. Come on.”

Laughing, Tim picked up the pace, letting Gerry drag him forward. He laughed even harder when he realized what Gerry wanted him to see. A low fence with clear plastic set in the gaps of the frame surrounded a large, flat area that had been turned into an ice skating rink. A booth off to one side proclaimed that skates were available for rent.

“You want to go ice skating?” he asked, unexpectedly delighted.

“Mostly I want to see you ice skating, but yeah, I’ll get out there with you.” Gerry grinned at him. “So you do like the idea?”

“I love it.” Tim tugged Gerry around and kissed him.

It turned out that while the rink was free, they were supposed to reserve a time, and the first skate was completely booked. Tim pulled out his phone and booked them both for one o’clock, and they found a bench where they could sit and watch the skaters. It proved to be a pretty good mix of what Tim took to be university students, older folks who were probably past retirement age, and parents with small children likely too young for school. Some of the littlest ones were leaning on props shaped like penguins to keep themselves from falling face-first on the ice. Tim couldn’t help but grin as he watched them stumble around the ice.

“Too bad they don’t have those in adult sizes,” Gerry said dryly, watching a tiny child of indeterminate gender that seemed to be mostly comprised of snowsuit and hat. “I am definitely going to be terrible at this.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You might be surprised.” Tim nudged him. “Also, this might be a good time to tell you I’ve never done this either.”

“What, never?” Gerry’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, never. Been skiing a few times, snowshoeing once or twice, and one year Danny talked me into trying snowboarding, but I’ve never done ice skating.”

“Well, that’s more than I’ve done, so you’re up on me there.”

“Good. Then we can look like idiots together.” Tim dodged Gerry’s playful swipe and put his arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“I know.” Gerry leaned his head on Tim’s shoulder.

They got up when the rink stewards ordered the current crowd off the ice, went over to the booth, and rented their skates. It probably should have been at least a little embarrassing for the pack of schoolchildren on some kind of field trip to almost literally skate circles around them, but Tim was too busy laughing and holding onto Gerry to keep himself from falling over while Gerry did the same thing with him to care. Somehow, they managed to keep from actually tumbling to the ground. His legs were aching well before their hour was up, but he didn’t want to stop, not while Gerry was still going strong. He kept powering his way around the rink, but silently, he thanked God that they would have at least three or four hours to make it to the train station from here. It might have only been about a twenty-minute walk, but he was probably going to need at least a short rest first.

Finally, the rink stewards called that time was up. The two of them stumbled off the ice, nearly fell when they hit solid ground, and wobbled over to the bench where they’d left their shoes to get the skates off.

Gerry groaned, rubbing at his calves. “You’re a machine, you know that? I was having a hell of a time keeping up with you.”

“What? Oh, no.” Tim started giggling. He couldn’t help it. “I thought I was keeping up with you!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gerry threw his head back and laughed, too.

It did, at least, give them time to recover, so they were a bit steadier on their feet when they finally got their boots laced back up and returned the skates. Still, they took their time getting back to Union Station. Retrieving their bags was easy, and they still had time to grab a bite to eat before heading to the platform. Once there, Gerry hesitated for just a minute, then led Tim purposefully over to one of the benches.

“Strategic view of the incoming train?” Tim asked lightly. He glanced at the arrival board. They still had close to an hour before their train pulled in.

“Something like that.” Gerry pointed to the bench on the extreme opposite end of the platform. “Did Gertrude tell you we’d made it all the way to the station before she took me to the hospital?”

“No.” Tim’s stomach flipped. “You didn’t tell her you weren’t feeling well?”

“They were just headaches. Never really thought anything of it. And it didn’t occur to me that I was having seizures with them—”

“Gerry!”

“It didn’t! I just…thought the pain was so bad I was twitching to make it stop.” Gerry sighed. “Anyway, I’m not sure Gertrude really noticed at first either, but something suddenly made her pay more attention, and the next thing I knew we were on our way to the hospital.”

“There was some supposedly inspiring news story going around about a basketball game that got moved up because one of the players is dying of brain cancer and really wanted to play before she died,” Tim said quietly. “It got her worrying. Which, you know Gertrude, just irritated her.”

“Yeah, God forbid anyone knows she cares.” Gerry sighed. “Still. I’m glad she did. And I’m really glad she called you, mate. I couldn’t have got through this without you.”

Tim put his arm around Gerry’s shoulders, then took his hand with the other and kissed his knuckles. “I’m glad she called me, too. There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

Gerry leaned his head on Tim’s shoulder, and they sat in silence, listening to the bustle of the station around them. Tim was peripherally aware of a woman glaring disapprovingly at them from further along the platform, but he ignored her. He’d been out and proud as bisexual since he was thirteen and he had the scars to prove it, and if he was likely to let the opinions of others bother him he wouldn’t have lasted this long. Besides, he’d just come damn close to losing Gerry. However they defined their relationship, he was the most important person in Tim’s life, and he wanted as much reassurance as he could get that he was alive and here. Other people could fucking deal with that.

Finally, Gerry spoke quietly. “What’s the plan when we get to Pittsburgh?”

“There’s something Gertrude wants us to check in the Hall of Records.” Tim patted his coat again. “It’s all in here. We can go over it on the train.”

“You don’t want to wait until we get there?”

“Train gets in at five in the morning. We can’t get into the hotel until the afternoon. And Thursday is some kind of government holiday, apparently, so everything will be closed until Monday, and they might close early tomorrow. Rather at least get started than hit a brick wall and get delayed entirely another week.”

“Fair enough,” Gerry admitted. “Leave it to the Americans to decide to add a holiday in the middle of November for no damn reason. What is it, anyway?”

Tim snorted. “They call it Thanksgiving. It’s a whole day to celebrate turkey and football.”

“Oh, joy. I suppose there’s a football team where we’re going? Seems like everyone has a football team.”

“Yeah, the Steelers, I think. But they’re not playing until Sunday.” Tim smirked down at Gerry. “And I’m not particularly interested in going to another game.”

“Good,” Gerry replied. “So we’ll get what answers we can tomorrow, hang around until Monday if we need to, and get out of town as soon as possible?”

“That’s the plan.” A low whistle sounded in the distance, and Tim glanced down the track. “Aha, our chariot approaches. Come, my prince, let us fly.”

“If this train starts flying, I’m setting it on fire.” Gerry bent to retrieve his bag.

“Nah, the Heartland Flyer operates in Texas.” Tim dodged Gerry’s halfhearted swipe and caught his hand, laughing. “C’mon. Maybe boarding first won’t get us to Pittsburgh any faster, but at least we’ve got a better chance of getting good seats. God only knows how many people are going to be taking this trip home for the holidays. And then once we’re settled, we can look at this damn notebook and figure out what’s what.”

“Sounds good.” Gerry squeezed Tim’s hand. “Let’s get going, then.”