HTOne

                                     CHAPTER ONE - VISITOR

Not caring where they landed, Brian immediately kicked off his tennis shoes as he entered the house and sighed in relief, enjoying the cold contact of the stone flooring against his bare feet. Gotta remember to buy some sandals! He padded silently into the modern, over-sized kitchen, casually tossing his car keys on top of the dark granite countertop. Reaching into the deep depths of the refrigerator, Brian pulled out two chilled water bottles, downed one hurriedly and then started on the other. I've also gotta remember to bring along some water next time I go out! He chided himself on his lack of common sense. He was a seasoned traveler, he should know the rules by now. When in Rome, do as the Romans do! But he wasn't in Rome. Not even close. He was here, in Phoenix, in the dead of summer. July, to be exact. And, as far as he was concerned, Hell sure had some stiff competition.

Grabbing the nape of his T-shirt, Brian yanked it one-handed over his head, shivering slightly as his bare chest came in contact with the air conditioning. He bunched up the shirt, wiping the sweat off his brow and neck before carelessly tossing it to the floor. Brian leisurely took a sip of his water, his hips resting against the counter top as he gazed at the panoramic view of the desert outside his kitchen window. Even within the cool confines of the house, he could see the soft shimmer of the midday heat rising up from the ground. Brian took in the view before him, still awed by the desert's splendor. He never got tired of the sight, never weary of the strange, almost mysterious lure that the desert now held for him.

He remembered the first time he set eyes on the Arizona wilderness. He had despised it. An unwilling accomplice, he had driven hour upon endless hour with Xavier through the harsh environment, feeling dead and desolate as the scenery outside.

Xavier.

Brian thought about him for a moment. A quick stab of hatred sparked inside him and he flinched, remembering the physical and mental agony he had suffered under that madman. For the past month, with the help of a therapist, he had been fairly successful in exorcising the memory of Xavier, working through the anxiety attacks that came whenever he thought of him. Leaning heavily against the counter, Brian closed his eyes. Taking slow and measured breaths, he willed himself to relax as he counted to a hundred.

Just to be sure, he counted to one hundred and fifty before finally opening his eyes. Relieved that his heart rate was now somewhat back to normal, Brian smiled faintly and gave a silent prayer of thanks, grateful that he wouldn't have to take another pill. During his stay at the hospital, doctors had prescribed an anti-anxiety drug. The drug had been instrumental in helping him to overcome those horrible panic attacks, but the sedative's success had come with a price - the side effects caused drowsiness, confusion, and more significantly, a severe loss of appetite. Upon discharge from the hospital, he had lost another ten pounds off his already emaciated frame. Outpatient clinical and nutritional services had been successful in helping him wean himself off the Serax. He was starting to regain some weight. Thank God. Brian ran a cursory hand across his chest, glad he could not feel the sharp outline of his ribs anymore.

Pushing himself away from the countertop, he went to the pantry to search for something to eat. He left the kitchen, munching on corn chips as he wove his way through the home's airy and spacious interior. The house stood perched on top of a small hill, adjacent to the foothills of Squaw Peak mountain. A small, private dirt road led up to the residence, the whole area enclosed by the protection of a secure wrought iron fence. An overabundance of cacti surrounded the home, their menacing display of needle-sharp thorns keeping at bay even the bravest of intruders.

Brian flopped down on the sprawling leather sectional and relaxed into its soft suppleness. He reclined his head and stared up at the high-vaulted ceiling, watching for a moment as the copper ceiling fans spun a lazy circle overhead. He wiggled deeper into the downy cushions and turned to stare at the massive picture windows that framed the north side of the house. The sparkle of a dark blue pool shimmered back at him, reflecting the backdrop of the mountain's slope that rose behind the house. The desert plant life engulfed the terrain, the tall saguaros and dazzling bougenvilla blooming in vivid colors of scarlet and orange.

Throughout the many months of recovering from his injuries, Brian had spent countless hours viewing the desert from the confines of his hospital bed, then from a wheelchair, and finally, when strong enough to stand unaided, outside. He had come to enjoy the desert's quiet solitude, the soothing calmness of its stately grandeur. For hours on end he would watch, noticing not the slightest stir of movement for miles around. The still silence helped to soothe the inner turmoil that was constantly raging in his mind and body, helping to distract from the frequent bouts of anger, pain, and depression that seemed to strike him at will. His first, instant dislike for the desert had steadily turned into an all-consuming passion for its peaceful beauty, a craving that was more desirable than any drug. Yes, he loved the desert and everything it had to offer, but the heat, well, the heat was something else. Especially now.

Brian leaned over and grabbed a remote control, thumbing the right button. He shook his head in amazement as the tint of the windows gradually became darker, blocking out the intense heat and light. This house had every possible creature comfort known to man and then some. He had been incredibly lucky to lease it. Transferring to Phoenix, unwilling to stay in Tucson any longer than he had to, he had been unsure of his chance at renting a suitable place in which to live undisturbed while he recovered. He had wanted to fly back home, but doctors had quickly advised against that, expressing their concern of a possible medical flare-up. Instinctively, Brian rubbed the thick scar that marred his back, thinking about the emergency surgery that had removed his spleen, while repairing his kidney and lacerated liver. Later, he had learned that for the next forty-eight hours it had been touch and go, no one knowing whether he would live or die. Yes, it was better for him to remain in Arizona, to wait for a full bill of health from the doctors and concentrate on getting back on track.

He was glad he kept in regular contact with the guys, either by phone or email, feeling appreciative that they were concerned about his welfare as much as he was about theirs. He had, however, quickly gotten tired of everyone constantly apologizing to him, expressing their grief as if it was somehow their fault that this whole thing had happened. Nick had been the worst. Constantly hovering over him, ready to help, never leaving his side during the lengthy stay at the hospital. After he'd discharged, it had taken every ounce of persuasion to get Nick to fly back home alone to Florida.

Brian sighed inwardly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He had been rather curt with Nick the last time they had talked, irritated at Nick's still apologetic behavior. For the past three days, he had not spoken to him and Brian felt a twinge of guilt. He glanced at the portable phone, smiled ruefully, and reached out to snag it. Time to give Frack a call. He punched in the number, waiting for the signal to connect.

Wait a minute. Was that the doorbell?

Frowning, he pulled the phone away from his ear, and cocked his head, listening. There! There it was again. The doorbell. Confused, Brian clicked the phone to off. Strange. I'm not expecting anyone. The bell began to ring repeatedly. Damn! Whoever was pushing the bell was now putting full force into it, incessantly hitting the ringer without a pause.

"All right, all right, I'm coming for God's sake! Hold on!"

Brian hurried over to the door, pissed, wondering how anyone managed to get through the security gate without his approval. Years of practice under his belt, Brian cautiously peeked through the peephole. He sucked in a breath of surprise. Stepping back, he hurriedly unlatched the bolt and tugged the heavy door open.

"Nick?"

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CHAPTER TWO