Catching Fire

Author's Foreword: This series has themes of romance, sex, friendship, humor, safe and consensual BDSM, and above all, intimacy and the concept of memory. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. I want you, reader, to come away with more empathy, appreciation, and joy for yourself and others than you began. As I did when writing this.

Note on Part 15: This is Part 1 of 2 of the overall finale. Stay tuned, the next one won't be far behind!

It just felt right to have it as a two-parter. Thanks for your patience in waiting a very long time for the conclusion to come out - a lot of difficult things outside my control took priority for quite a while, and I didn't want to rush to the end just to be done. So here we go!

Catching Fire is dedicated to Erin. And Luke.

***

***End of Summer, After Everything***

It was cool that evening, but still warm enough for crickets to trill and certain songbirds to call. I trudged down the worn path towards the flickering light and familiar voices.

"Hey, finally!" Grant said, cheerily waving from his seat by the fire pit. Then he saw my face, and his broad hand sank as quickly as his happy expression. Oblivious, Alex stood up from a rickety lawn chair, turning around less than smoothly to face me, more than a few bottles on the ground next to him.

"The fuck took you so long?" he shouted, playfully belligerent, "Trip and get caught in one of your girlfriends?" Then he saw me and stopped. I walked further into the firelight, an envelope clenched in my hand.

"Holy..." Alex muttered, changing gears, "Woah, man, you look like hell. C'mere, siddown. What happened?"

"Move" I said flatly.

"Slow down, man. What're you doing?" he asked, unsteadily putting his beer down while keeping his eyes on me.

"Burning this fucking letter," I croaked. I scrubbed hurriedly at my wet face so we could all pretend they didn't see.

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"Out of my way." I knew they heard the raw edge in my voice. Alex planted his feet and crossed his long, lean arms. A frown told me all I needed to know about his intent.

"Hey, man," Grant said with the blunt kindness he's always shown, "If it's a Dear John letter, dude, I'm sorry. But you shouldn't burn it." He stood up and went to stand next to Alex, the duo blocking my path to the fire like a wall of muscle.

"I said move!" I snapped. My friends glanced at each other and then back to me, waiting to see what I would do. I clenched my fist and jaw. Alex broke the tension after a few unsure seconds.

"How about you hand it over and I'll give it back when you're ready," he suggested, "I won't look at it. Shit, you know I can't read anyway." When he saw that I was unmoved by humor, he changed tactics.

"Grow up, Luke," he said bluntly, "You know I torched mine when I got one. Don't make what hurts bad now hurt worse later for no fuckin' reason. Listen to me. I know. I wish I'd listened to you, when I was in your shoes."

"Can't burn part of your life away, man," Grant urged kindly, "Not you."

"Yes, me!" I raged, "I'm allowed to forget!"

"That we can help with," Alex said placatingly, rummaging in the cooler for another beer. He offered one to me while holding out his other hand.

"Come on," he offered, "One little piece of paper for a drink with me and Grant. You even get the letter back, once you're not crazy. Not a bad trade."

"Three," I said miserably.

"However many you want for it, amigo! We got plenty," Grant cajoled, guiding me to a chair between them before throwing more wood on the fire.

"No. Three pieces of paper," I said, staring at the rumpled envelope with my name on it.

"Damn. Pretty long for a Dear John," Grant said, shaking his head.

"Just... just let me read it one more time before I give it to you," I pleaded.

"It's your letter, bud," Alex said patiently, "Whatever you need to do. Take your time." He and Grant glanced at each other, then sat down to watch the crackling flames instead of me. I took a deep, shaky breath and read it all as slowly as I could.

***

***Late Summer, Before the Breakup***

Sarah's phone rang again, and she groaned as she slid off me to fumble around over the side of the bed for her cell, still half asleep. I blinked groggily and peered at the red digits on the alarm clock: who the hell would be calling now? Erin stirred on the other side of me, shifting away and pulling the covers over her eyes against the inevitable morning. Sarah rolled back to me and rested her head on me, phone held vaguely against her ear under sex-tousled hair. I felt her smooth, generous leg drape across my body, and I stroked it to elicit her grumbled encouragement.

"H'lo?" Sarah slurred. I faintly heard an inquisitive voice on the other end of the call.

"Hm? Oh," Sarah said after a long pause, struggling up to a sitting position, blinking rapidly, "Oh! Yes, this is Sarah! No, this is um..." She glanced over at me, pulling the sheet up to her bare chest and trying to wake up quickly.

"No, of course, I mean yes! Yes, this is a good time. Well, the time difference makes it - right, it's, um, very early here. No, no, that's okay, really! It's fine. Please, go ahead. Uh-huh."

"What's wrong?" Erin whispered to me, suddenly the most awake and alert of any of us. She half-sat up on one elbow, hand on my arm. Now I was worried too - calls at this hour were usually urgent for one reason or another. Clueless, I shook my head and we watched Sarah closely. She spoke briefly with the other person on the line, made a promise to call later in the day, and hung up before staring into nothing.

"Sarah?" I asked, "What is it? You alright?"

"I got it," she said faintly, then whooped and leapt out of bed, "I got it!"

"Got what?" Erin and I asked in unison.

"The lab internship I wanted! The *big* one! All the others were safeties; this is THE lab, you guys! I gotta call my parents! I gotta get home! I gotta pack! I... oh, shit." She stopped dancing around so gloriously and slipped back under the covers to be near us.

"Guys, I, uh, I have to leave soon. Like, leave-leave. They said it's best if I can get there within the next week; that's when the projects start, and the one they want me on is *super* time-sensitive. So I guess I'm heading out really early now. Way before either of you. I'm sorry, but I..." She was bubbling over with happiness, sadness, excitement, and anxiety all at once. Erin and I glanced at each other. It was time to repay Sarah for all her trust in us. Sadly, by helping her leave and not look back.

"What the heck are you sorry about?" Erin erupted in joy.

"Seriously, this is great news!" I added.

"But -" Sarah started to protest.

"But nothing," Erin snapped, lunging forward to smack Sarah's thigh, "You got your big chance, girlie! Not just got, but earned it!"

"I mean, we both knew you were gonna get it," I insisted, "Come on, who else would they ever pick after talking to you?" Sarah laughed at us and buried her face in her hands, giggling ecstatically as we kept it up.

"Thanks," she eventually sighed once we'd sufficiently buried her in affirmations, "But it's just so sudden. I can't believe I have to leave already. I'm really going to miss you; we had such a... such a *good* thing going."

"We'll miss you too," Erin said with a small smile and a glance away. Under the sheets, I felt Erin's hand seek mine, and we both squeezed for all we were worth: don't you dare go anywhere, our fingers said. Not yet.

"Well," I said into the sudden, strange quiet between the three of us, "Not exactly the way I was hoping to wake up, but still pretty good." A grin fluttered its way between us, but it didn't exactly raise our spirits. Sometimes there isn't much that can.

"I'll get started on breakfast," I offered, getting out of bed.

"Good boy," Erin replied, patting me appreciatively before shifting over to take advantage of my residual body heat in the bed, "We'll be down soon. We just need a bit of girl-time." She gestured, and Sarah gratefully went into her arms. It would have been exciting at any other time that summer, but right then it was so plainly for comfort. I dressed quickly, kissed each of them, and left. As I began to walk downstairs in bare feet, I paused when I heard the inevitable sounds of mutual tears and reassurance from the room behind me. It grew fainter as I padded into the kitchen.

Filling the coffee pot at the sink, I glumly stared out the windows, watching evergreens and poplars swaying in the soft, gray, overcast light. Rain drops speckled the glass. The days and nights had lasted forever, while the weeks and months had hurtled by before ending without warning. It wasn't fair.

Over breakfast, we made plans for one final celebration in a few days. It was all we had time for, with Sarah leaving so soon and having a million things to do and people to see before then. We debated getting a nice hotel, but that was tossed out for both the cost and the way the thought made us feel tawdry rather than fancy. It was obvious where and why we felt safest and most together. I offered my house, since my folks were conveniently out for a while when theirs weren't, and Sarah would need to pack up her life anyway. I'd have to clean like mad first, but they didn't need to know that. All three of us wanted some kinky Silence fun to start, then whatever felt right in the moment. One more chance to experience something none of us might ever get to have again.

"One little request," Erin said as she swiped a finger through the syrup on her plate, "You both know how much I love blindfolds; shut up, Luke! I just don't think I want them this time. For any of us. If that's alright."

"Of course it is. Is there a reason, though?" Sarah asked. Erin glanced at me, then her plate. I understood.

"So we don't miss anything," I finished for her. She still didn't look at me, but I felt her small foot, forever twisted and punished by pointe shoes, stroke my leg under the table.

***

"You don't exactly clean up nice," Sarah commented, eyeing me up and down in a coy fashion. Her fingers toyed with mine, then flitted up to weave through and rearrange my hair. She wore a clingy black dress with a print of golden flowers and silver hummingbirds, drawing every eye in the room. I couldn't exactly refute her, because I have never felt like myself in a suit and tie, much as I want to and have tried; I inevitably end up looking like someone who had a full head transplant.

"True," I replied, "Although based on how this summer went, I don't think you mind too much; oh no, a sweaty, dirty man who's been working outside all day is suddenly on your porch asking for an iced tea - whatever shall you do?" I slipped an arm around Sarah and squeezed her hip, enjoying it when she leaned into me and looked around nervously.

"Stop it!" she whispered heatedly, thumping me in the chest with scandalized delight, "We're in public! I mean you're right, but cool it, Mister." Contrary to her nerves, nobody was paying attention to our quiet flirting. Her definition of 'public' was the foyer of a fun little bar-and-dance club uptown that, besides us at the early evening hour, only contained a few middle-aged couples that kept checking their phones for a date-ending text from the babysitter. A hostess at the front was expertly fielding several calls a minute while managing all of us in the waiting area like well-dressed sheep. Before long, we were called up and led away to a table.

After we sat down and gave our drink order, I glanced around. Sarah was doing the same, enjoying the atmosphere and the fact that everyone seemed to want to smile at her. I shucked my jacket over the back of my chair, did the same with my tie, undid a button or two, and began adjusting my sleeves with a cuff-width fold to the crook of my elbow; no rolling. Sarah watched me eagerly as I did, knees starting to shift with anticipation. Alongside her appreciation for a lean, rough workman on her doorstep, she also liked it when I dressed up for her, and how I wordlessly signaled to her that her need was about to be met by getting a little more comfortable.

I felt a growing confidence as I noticed her eyes stroking the breadth and solidity of my shoulders, the striations and shapes of my arms and hands, the trim taper down my front and along my sides. As I've gotten older, I've come to understand that the rolled-sleeve look does a lot more for me than ties and jackets ever did, so I've leaned into it over the years. Besides keeping me from overheating, I can tell how most people, even at work or just passing by, have to try a bit harder to stay focused when I look that way. Sarah was one of the first who helped me realize it.

Almost without fail, I think of her when I feel my shirt buttons under my fingertips. Such a strangely specific association. She also loved it when my hair was a bit disheveled while of course staying clean. I found that others did too, and more importantly so did I, and I started generally keeping it that way for long enough that it became part of my outward identity.

Looking at my hair in the mirror now, as a middle-aged man grateful to still have it even if I can see one or two grays, I find myself thinking of all the beautiful hands that have drifted through, played with, and clenched it. My hair and clothes from Sarah; my beard from Erin, of course; my sense of urgency from both. So many others, both etched and ephemeral. The fingerprints of people I've known, been with, remember, and forgotten are hidden all over me. I just desperately hope that whatever I've left for others, with or without their knowing, is as warm to them as my actual touch.

The club was a relaxed place. Tables ringed the dance floor while an empty band stage and a DJ were stationed off to one side. It was mainly older couples moving impressively well to older songs at that moment, but younger people like us were starting to filter in and watch from the sides, the background chatter growing with every happy person and scoop of ice. Latin night would start soon and I was looking forward to it, same as Sarah. She had picked up the fever for it in late high school and kept it going in early college before lab work killed her spare time. I'd first met my main ex up to that point, Natasha, as a Salsa partner at a club near campus. I briefly thought of her at that moment, and how like uncountable couples before and after us, our rhythms had improved on the floor when they improved in bed, and vice versa. Right up until the music stopped.

"Thanks," Sarah said abruptly, and I looked away from the shifting lights and turbulent memories to her warm, dark eyes.

"For what?" I asked, not having to try too hard to ground myself in the present. It was always so easy with Sarah.

"Well, at this exact moment, I guess I mean coming out for one last you-and-me evening. Date. Thing. Whatever. Doesn't matter, right? Anyway, you came out to do this with me at the last minute, and I appreciate it. It was just suddenly weird to me that we've never danced together before, you know? So I called you once I got home this morning. Cool place you found, by the way."

"Yeah, my friend Lily recommended it. As for our date, honestly, same," I laughed, "And now that you mention it, kinda weird. I've almost always danced with people, um, first. You know what I mean. But seriously, why thank me?" Our drinks arrived and we toasted each other.

"Because this has been such a... I'm not sure," she said, toying with her glass, "I never imagined anything like this would ever happen to little old me. Hey, don't look like that, I'm trying to say it's been amazing! But, almost beyond that, I just feel so much more comfortable with myself, lately. Relaxed. Confident. Happy, I guess? I know it doesn't make sense, but I feel like I'm a different person yet also... more like *myself* now."

"It shows. And same. So thank you, too."

"Oh, trust me. It definitely shows for you. And that's with your clothes on, not to mention the rest," she replied with a smile, glancing away towards the steadily increasing press of people. I looked over at the somewhat bored DJ.

"I'll be right back," I said. A minute later my request was playing as I walked back to our table.

"Sarah, would you like to dance?" I asked, putting out my hand.

"I love this song!" she enthused, letting me help her up.

"Me too. Remember it? The only time I was brave enough to ask you?" Her eyes lit up at that.

"I do now," she said, stepping in for a cuddle before starting to follow me, "And how surprised I was when you asked me. I'm glad I said yes, you know, even if we've had to wait a few years." Although we left the club only a few hours later, Sarah and I found a way to dance together all night, not stopping until we collapsed together, breathless and laughing and remade.

***

A few days later, it was time for Sarah's going-away party. Naturally, a hellish heat wave had made itself an unwelcome fourth guest. Still, I'm adaptable, and I had ideas for how to use it.

"Ugh, let us in. Also, it's too hot to dress up like we were supposed to," Erin complained as I opened the door, "Deal with it." She gave more of her thoughts on the subject in an impressive variety as they hurried inside. She and Sarah had each brought an overnight tote which they dropped on the floor. Glancing inside, I could see hints that they had brought all the fun things I'd asked them to.

"You do look hot," I replied, "And bothered." Erin rolled her eyes at the crap joke, then snarled and swiped at me when I pinched her as she bent over to undo her sandals. Sarah laughed and watched, giving me don't-you-dare eyes as she undid her own shoes. All three of us were in plain summer wear: shorts and tees or tank tops. It was strange how enticing they each looked in such different ways; one a nearly flat, energetic, aggressive sprite that radiated sexy confidence and the other a busty, curvy, bashful hourglass that absolutely begged for approval with her entire being.

"So," Erin said brusquely, "When are we starting?"

"That was quick," Sarah snorted, looking us both up and down eagerly.

"No kidding. So much for foreplay," I laughed.

"Uh-huh," Erin said, giving a knowing glare, "Not all of us got to blow off steam since last time." Sarah looked a little embarrassed, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one.

"And here I thought you liked being frustrated," I said, moving to crowd Erin against the front door. I placed my hands on either side of her head. Her back thumped against the wood and she glared up at me with a mix of defiance and desire, one collapsing, the other building. I knew how badly she wanted to drag her hands along me; paw her way along the hard ridges of my sides. She was struggling not to sink to her knees and make a spectacle of herself, and we both knew it.

"Maybe I do," Erin said rebelliously, "But only when I get to do something about it. So: are you gonna let me do something about it?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking about teasing you some more."

"You asshole! I'll be the worst brat ever if you do," she warned.

"If you're a brat, you know what will happen."

"Promise?" she whispered, tilting her chin up as I drew closer. I leaned forward for a kiss, but Erin beat me to it and bit my lip instead.

"It's not fair, watching you two," Sarah whined. I'd damn near forgotten she was there. Erin always gave me tunnel-vision.

"Wanna start, Sarah?" I asked, not looking away from Erin's excited face.

"Not like I'm going to say no," she mumbled, quickly tying her hair back with one of the bands that lived on her wrist.

"Forgetting someone, Luke?" Erin snapped.

"And that's why Sarah's a Pretty Bird and you're a bit of a problem. Sarah, please go to my room and get the collar and leash. Erin left it over here last time. But you, Kitten... you stay right there."