miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2009-02-08 22:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | -[luke/noah]-, fanfic, fanfic: [alternate universe], fanfic: [atwt], fanfic: rating: mature, » by: indigo_5 |
Fic: The Cellmate, Chapter 6 (LAST CHAPTER)
Original poster: indigo_5
Title: The Cellmate
Author: indigo_5
Chapter: 6 – LAST CHAPTER
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: I own neither Luke, Noah, nor anything else related to ATWT. The show would look a lot different if I did.
Spoilers: None. This is total AU.
Previous chapters: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5.
Summary: I am terrible at summarizing last chapters. The story ends in this one. That’s all I’m going to tell you. Sorry! :)
Notes: Thank you soooooooooooo much for all the awesome feedback everyone has contributed as the story has gone along! I can’t tell you how much I love to see that people are reading my stuff and reacting to it. I would love love love it if you’d leave some for this chapter too! ♥
On the 26th, Noah’s Dad appeared as scheduled for his visit. And as expected, he shouted curses and insults when Noah told him the whole truth about what happened with Ricky, words that made Noah’s face burn with anger and his hands clench into fists. But Noah kept talking, and when he began to explain about his relationship with Luke, the Colonel just stood up and walked out. He hadn’t contacted Noah since.
“Called that one right,” Noah said to Luke later, and he wouldn’t say any more. But Luke held him anyway, that night and a lot of nights afterward, and in the dark one night, in a whisper, Noah confessed how hurt he was, how much his father’s rejection bothered him, and how it bothered him that it bothered him. “I hate that he still has that power over me,” he said. “I hate him.” But his lip was trembling, and his eyes were turned away, and Luke knew the truth was more complicated than that.
“I love you,” Luke whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say. But once he started talking, it was easier to continue. He told Noah that he was a good man, the best man Luke had ever known, and that his father was a fool. But he also said he understood that Noah loved him anyway, that some part of him always would. “Not because he deserves it,” he said, “but because he’s your father. And baby, that’s okay.”
Noah didn’t say anything back, but he let Luke hold him. And in the morning, Noah’s mood was a little better. It continued to improve each morning after. And Luke knew that Noah would be okay.
The attorney the Colonel had promised never materialized, of course. When Luke first brought up contacting Lucinda to hire a lawyer instead, Noah told him not to. “I’m not leaving you,” he said, and Luke could see that he meant it.
“I’m not going to fight with you,” Luke said calmly, setting down the pen he was using to write the letter to his grandmother and looking Noah straight in the eye. “But you are not staying in this place for one day longer than you have to. Not one day, not one hour, not one second. Not for me. Not for anything.”
“Luke --”
“Absolutely not. And if you say anything like that to me even one more time, I’ll never have sex with you again.” Noah snorted out a laugh, and Luke grinned back at him. But their eyes stayed locked as the smiles eventually faded, and finally, Luke picked up the pen again.
“I love you,” Noah said softly as Luke bent over the letter.
“I love you too,” Luke replied, not looking up. He squinted his eyes, hoping like hell it would keep the tears back until Noah left the room. It did.
The lawyer worked quickly, and as the months passed, Luke knew his time with Noah was growing short. He found himself focusing on almost anything else just to take his mind off the idea, throwing himself into his writing, finishing a collection of stories that even he had to admit was pretty good. He wrote about his drinking, about his pain, about his regrets. Mostly, he wrote about Delia Washington, the woman he hit that night. He wrote how he thought about her every day, how he wondered if she ever made it out of that wheelchair, how he thought about her kids and how they must have suffered. He wrote that he would do anything to turn back time and slug himself in the jaw as soon as he even thought about getting behind the wheel. That at the very least, he wished he could make it so that the only one who ended up in a wheelchair as a result of his stupidity was him.
Eventually, he realized that what he’d written was a book. Noah read it, and told him he’d never read anything like it, anything so moving and honest and raw and true. He encouraged Luke to send it to publishers, but Luke knew there was someone else who had to see it first. It took a week to write the letter that accompanied the manuscript, but as he wrote Ms. Washington’s address on the heavy envelope and placed it in the outgoing mail, he knew that it was the right thing to do.
That night was Noah’s last night in prison, and Luke cried in his lover’s arms. He cried about everything: the mistakes he’d made, the people he’d hurt, the fears he had for his future. But mostly, he cried over Noah. It seemed cruel that they had found each other in this horrible place just to be torn apart; cruel, and wrong, and all kinds of impossible. He didn’t put any of this into words. He just cried, and Noah held him close, wrapping his arms around him, soothing him the best he knew how. And they made love, and it was tender, and gentle, and Luke never wanted to let him go. Noah fell asleep, but Luke lay awake all night, his head on Noah’s chest, listening to him breathing. Trying not to waste a single moment of the short time they had left.
In the morning, Luke walked out with him to the farthest point he was allowed. And when they had to separate, Noah ignored all the guards around them and pulled Luke into his arms, crushing their mouths together in a deep, passionate kiss. The guards yelled at them to stop, and the inmates shouted out catcalls and jeers, but Luke was aware of nothing but Noah, Noah’s lips strong and warm, Noah’s tongue dancing with his own, Noah’s arms wrapped around him, Noah’s body pressing tight. Only when the guards actually physically pulled them apart did they separate, and Luke stood with the guard’s hand pressing bruises into his arm and watched as Noah was led away.
Luke spent a night in solitary for the kiss, but it was just as well. He couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in his cell without Noah there.
The next day, Luke knew he had to get about the practical matter of survival. He had been looking into his options, and as it turned out, you didn’t have to depend on a “psycho boy” boyfriend for protection in prison; it could be had for a price. Alonso had a cousin in the Latin Kings, and he set up a meeting that afternoon. Luke was glad Alonso was there too, because damn, Carlos was scary. Big, hulking, covered in tattoos, with an ugly scar on the side of his neck and a left earlobe that seemed to be missing a chunk. They settled on a dollar figure pretty quickly, but then Carlos brought up the matter of “a little somethin’ extra for me.” Luke just stared at him blankly, so Carlos clarified. “Not a lot, you know, just somethin’ for the time. Like one blowjob a month, maybe?”
Luke was too stunned to reply, but luckily Alonso didn’t have that problem. He shrieked at Carlos in rapid-fire Spanish until Carlos threw up his hands, shrinking down in his seat, clearly terrified of his tiny cousin, and Luke had to laugh. “Awright, awright!” Carlos said, shaking his head. “Jesus, ’Lonso, tear my fuckin’ head off, why don’t you.” He shook Luke’s hand on the deal and wandered off, still muttering under his breath, Alonso still yelling at his back.
Eventually, Luke’s laughter died down enough to allow him to speak. “It’s been a long time since high school Spanish,” he said. “But did you just call his mother what I think you did?”
Alonso stayed where he was, still staring in the direction his cousin had gone, hands on his hips, one foot tapping the floor furiously. “Just cause the woman’s my auntie don’t mean she gets off the hook for raising a fool like that,” he said. Luke laughed again, and Alonso turned to him, his smile eventually returning. “Anyway, it’s done. Come on, honey, let’s go celebrate,” he said, and he linked his arm with Luke’s and led him out of the room.
***
Prison life quickly faded to gray. Carlos was as good as his word, and nobody bothered Luke. He was assigned a new cellmate, a 40-year-old crack addict named Roscoe who looked twenty years older than his actual age and wasn’t interested in anything except sleeping, eating and getting his next fix. He and Luke stayed out of each other’s way, and Luke slept alone facing the wall and dreamed of Noah.
During the day, he went through the motions of his job, listening to Alonso chatter away during mealtimes and pouring his thoughts into his writing when he got any time alone. Noah visited as much as the prison allowed, and the first time Luke saw him on the other side of the plexiglass, he had a sudden understanding of what Roscoe must feel like when looking at a vial of crack. He had a physical reaction, his body filling with joy, as well as an intense sensation of needneedneedneednownownownow and he wanted to smash the glass with a sledgehammer and tackle Noah to the ground. Noah seemed to feel the same way, and they spent the full hour talking with a hand pressed against the glass, mirroring each other, striving to get as close to touching as they possibly could.
Noah was living with Luke’s parents now, an arrangement he had initially balked at, saying he didn’t want to be a burden. But Lily refused to hear it, and Luke pleaded with Noah to accept her offer. It put his mind substantially at ease when Noah said yes. Now, at least, he wouldn’t have to worry that Noah was spending too much time alone, or not getting enough to eat. Noah had taken a job at Java and applied to Oakdale U., having finished his GED while still in prison. He seemed happy, and it warmed Luke’s heart to see it.
And Luke missed him so much it hurt.
Sometimes, at night, he couldn’t sleep at all. He would lie in a tight ball with his eyes shut and try to conjure a memory of his boyfriend, or he would turn to his side and spoon a pillow, burying his face in the edge of the pillowcase and imagining Noah’s smell. But it was never the same, and it was never enough. Luke had never been a crier, but now he was crying a lot. Every night, in fact. And all the writing in the world wasn’t enough to fix it.
***
One Sunday about six weeks after Noah left, Luke walked into the visitor area with a bit of trepidation. He’d been told he had a visitor but didn’t know who it was, and he had no idea who to expect. He peered anxiously into the room on the other side of the plexiglass, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously, waiting.
When Delia Washington entered the room, he just about fell out of his chair.
First of all, she was walking. Unsteadily, and using a cane, but she was on her feet. Secondly, Noah was with her, helping her to the chair facing Luke. Noah. With Delia Washington. How was that possible? Luke stood up, knocking his own chair over, his mouth open. He didn’t know what to do. But the woman was sitting down, picking up the receiver, staring at him. Noah raised his eyebrows at Luke and gestured at the phone, and Luke hastily pulled his own chair back upright and sat down, picking up his own receiver. “Ms. Washington,” he rasped, then shook his head, cleared his throat and tried again. “Ms. Washington. Hello.”
“Hello, Luke.” Her voice was neutral, not warm, not cold. She eyed him carefully, then glanced at Noah, who said something to her that Luke couldn’t hear. She nodded, then handed Noah the receiver.
“I’m going to leave you two alone to talk,” Noah said, staring straight into Luke’s eyes.
“Noah, what --”
“I’ll be back,” he said, and he handed the phone back to her, then turned and walked out of the room.
Luke watched him go, then turned his attention to Ms. Washington, who was still giving him that even stare. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he had no idea what to say.
Finally, she spoke. “I read your letter,” she said. “And your book.”
“You -- you did?”
“Yes. I wasn’t going to, at first. That envelope sat on my kitchen counter for the longest time. I was going to throw it away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. But I sure didn’t intend on reading it.”
Luke’s mouth was dry. Am I really having this conversation? “What changed your mind?” he said at last.
“Your young man,” she said, nodding her head back in the direction Noah had gone. “He’s quite persistent, that one.”
“Noah -- he --”
“He came to see me. He explained who he was, and he talked about you. And I didn’t want to hear it. But he kept coming back. Finally, I agreed to read the thing just to get rid of him.”
Luke laughed in spite of himself. That sounded about right. Noah could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and once he decided to do something, Lord help anyone who thought they could change his mind.
“Only it wasn’t what I was expecting,” she said, gazing at Luke thoughtfully. “You have a gift, you know. A way with words.”
Luke looked down. “Ms. Washington. I can’t -- I wish I could tell you how deeply, deeply sorry I --”
“But you already have,” she said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You have told me. And quite beautifully.” Slowly, Luke lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “I’ve been angry at you for a long, long time,” she continued, her voice soft. “You did something that was very wrong, and you hurt me very badly. You stole from my children, that’s how I feel about it. You took part of their mother away.”
Luke swallowed hard. “I know,” he whispered.
“Except that’s not the whole story either. You’re not a monster. You’re just a kid who made a mistake. As Noah kept coming back, I started seeing you through his eyes. And oh, my, does he love you.” Luke nodded, fighting back the tears. “You know that too.”
He nodded again. “I’m so lucky to have him,” he said.
“Yes, you are.” She paused, still gazing at him. “But when I read what you wrote, I started to think maybe he’s lucky to have you too.” Luke just stared, and they were quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “So I decided to come here today and meet you. See if maybe we could start to understand each other. Because this anger I’ve been carrying, it’s not doing me any good. It’s not doing you any good, and it sure isn’t doing my children any good. If you could help me set that aside, that would be a great gift to me.”
Luke smiled, wiping a stray tear from his eye and clearing his throat. “To me too,” he said.
Delia smiled back. And they began to talk.
***
They were still deep in conversation when the guard came in an hour later and announced that their time was up. Luke had learned that Delia was a single mom, that she’d worked through hours upon hours of physical therapy to make it to her feet again, that she’d refused to take a handout or any help from anyone because she wanted to prove to her kids that she could do it on her own. He learned that she’d had her own struggles with alcoholism, years earlier, and that part of her thought that the accident was some kind of punishment from God for the times she’d driven drunk when she was Luke’s age.
Luke talked to Delia about everything. About his childhood, his life, his world in prison. Mostly, he talked about Noah, because that’s what made Delia smile. She’d had a love like that once, and her oldest son was almost Luke’s age, and she wanted that kind of love for him. By the end of the hour, they were laughing together like old friends, and Luke was genuinely sorry to see her go. When she asked if she could visit him again, he grinned big and said he would love that, and he meant it. Seeing her smile was like a weight lifted off Luke’s shoulders, one he’d been carrying for almost two years without even realizing it.
Noah came back into the room to help her out of it, but visiting time was up and they couldn’t speak. With his eyes, though, Luke told Noah how much he loved him, and how he couldn’t believe he’d done this amazing thing for him. With his eyes, Noah told Luke that he loved him too.
After that, Delia became a regular visitor. Noah had to start keeping a schedule so that he, Delia, and Luke’s parents all got enough time to see him, and Luke found himself looking forward to Sundays all week long. With Delia’s blessing, he sent the manuscript to a few publishers, and the second one he sent it to accepted it. For an inmate facing years behind bars, life didn’t get much better.
Except it did. Six months later, a guard came and pulled Luke out of the cafeteria at lunchtime, saying there was an urgent call for him. He got on the phone and discovered that Delia, Noah, and Luke’s lawyer were all on the line on a four-way call. “What’s going on?” Luke asked.
They all tried to speak at once, but finally Luke’s lawyer shouted the others down. “Luke, we’ve got some amazing news,” she said. “You know how Lucinda instructed me to keep trying every avenue to get you out, no matter how farfetched?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. His grandmother was nothing if not persistent, and they certainly had the money to spend on the efforts. But his lawyer had warned him not to get his hopes up, as clemency and pardon petitions were hardly ever granted. They were only considered once a year, and they’d been rejected without commentary once already.
“Well, this time we had secret weapon,” she continued.
“What’s that?”
“Me,” Delia said quietly.
Luke’s jaw dropped. “Wh-- what?”
“Delia wrote a statement on your behalf,” the lawyer said. “And then she pestered the governor’s office with phone calls for weeks until one of his aides agreed to set up a face-to-face meeting.”
“But -- but why?”
“I’ve let my anger go, Luke,” Delia said. “You’ve been there long enough. And I think you can do a lot more good outside those walls than inside them.”
Luke clutched the phone, his knuckles turning white. “What do you mean?”
Now, the lawyer took over. “Apparently, the governor’s a big reader,” she said. “He’s a great fan of your book. And he agreed that you have something to share that shouldn’t be locked up any longer. So, between the book, Delia, and my masterfully drafted clemency petition, well…”
“You’re out, kid!” Delia shouted.
Luke froze. “I’m what?”
“Your sentence has been commuted,” his lawyer explained. “Your remaining time will be converted into probation and community service -- the governor wants you to tour colleges in the state and talk to kids about drunk driving.”
“I -- I --”
“You’re coming home, Luke,” Noah said, and as the women cheered and shouted, Luke closed his eyes and sank to the floor. Home, he thought. I’m going home.
***
Three weeks later, nineteen people arrived at the prison to meet Luke on his release. His lawyer was there, and Delia, and his parents, and assorted relatives from all over the family tree. And Luke hugged them all, loved them all, was happy to see them all. But in truth, the only one he really saw was Noah. Luke grabbed him first and held him tight, wanting to do so much more, but unable to do what he really wanted with two grandmothers and a handful of young siblings in the room.
Later, there was a Welcome Home party at the Lakeview, with streamers and balloons and music and dancing, and by the time the last guest had headed out, it was past two in the morning. But when Luke’s parents told him it was time to go home, he took Noah’s hand and told them to go ahead without him. He needed to be alone with Noah tonight.
A quick slide of a credit card later, Luke and Noah found themselves alone in a beautiful room with a big, comfortable bed, and they were all over each other from the moment the door closed. Jackets and ties and shoes and socks came off quickly as they stumbled towards the bed, kissing passionately, and when they landed on it together, Noah moaned loud. Luke broke the kiss and grinned. “So that’s it.”
“What?” Noah asked, panting.
“What you sound like when you can make as much noise as you want.”
Noah grinned big, rolling them over so that Luke was on top, wrapping his legs tight around his waist. “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet.”
Luke kissed him hard, relishing the tangle of tongues that he hadn’t felt in eight months – eight months that felt like eighty years. He ripped off Noah’s shirt and pressed him tight, wanting to crawl into his skin, wanting to hold him close and never let him go. And Noah tore off his, clutching at his bare back, kissing him just as desperately, pulling him in so hard Luke felt his skin get hot from the pressure.
Belts, pants, and underwear were totally unnecessary items, and they had to go right now. Soon, both men were utterly naked, rolling on the bed together, kissing as hard and deep as they ever had, covering every inch of the other’s skin with desperate, wanting hands. Noah broke away only long enough to fish lube and condoms out of his pants, now discarded on the floor, and Luke lifted Noah’s legs over his shoulders as he popped the top on the bottle, slicking his fingers in glassy liquid and then covering Noah’s mouth in a kiss as he eased the first finger inside. “More,” Noah panted, breaking the kiss. “No teasing, Luke. Need you now.”
“Yes, sir,” Luke said, pushing a second finger in, working them in and out, moving, stretching. Noah moaned beneath him, bucking his hips up off the mattress, moving with Luke’s hand. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Luke whispered, then stopped himself. “What am I doing? YOU’RE SO FUCKING GORGEOUS!” he yelled, and Noah laughed, kissing him again.
“Want you in me,” he said when the kiss broke, and Luke stopped laughing, suddenly so hard he could barely breathe. “Make love to me, Luke.”
Luke could only nod breathlessly, pulling his fingers out as Noah opened the condom and slid it on Luke’s cock. Luke coated the condom with lube and then moved forward, kissing Noah tenderly once more as he lined up and pressed inside. “Oh, God, Noah,” he moaned, not caring how loud he was.
Noah didn’t seem to care either. “Luke,” he groaned, clutching both of Luke’s arms as he began to move, rocking his hips to move with him. “Yes, baby, just like that.”
“So tight, Noah. So good.”
“Luke… God, I missed this… I missed you…”
“I missed you so much.” Luke was still moving, still thrusting, and it was so perfect, so perfect. “I love you,” he whispered, and Noah’s eyes opened.
“I love you too,” he said.
They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. And Noah’s hands slid lower, pulling Luke deeper inside, and Luke’s hand found Noah’s cock, so very hard, and stroked it once, twice, three times. They were beyond words now, panting and kissing and moaning and out of language and so in love, so in love. And when they came, they came together, Noah crying out loud, Luke shuddering out a deep groan, and they collapsed together, breathing so deep, breathing each other in.
Eventually, Luke lifted up, trying to pull out, but Noah stopped him. “No,” he said softly, pulling Luke back down on top of him again. “Just stay. Just stay right there. I’ve wanted you here, like this, for…”
“Eight months?”
Noah paused. “I think… my whole life.”
Luke smiled, closing his eyes, snuggling closer in. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
***
In the morning, Luke woke up with Noah’s naked body tangled around him. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was past 10 am, the first time he’d slept this late in the two years since he’d first arrived in prison. Noah opened his eyes sleepily and smiled at him, and Luke’s breath stopped, the same way it had when he first saw Noah’s smile, what seemed like a very long time ago. So beautiful, he thought. Suddenly, he remembered that he didn’t have to keep it a secret anymore, and he grinned and touched Noah’s face. “So beautiful,” he said.
Noah pulled him close and kissed him. Their breath was morning-stale and their skin was still sticky from the exertions of the night before, but Luke tumbled onto his lover and held him tight, kissing him deeply, smiling big. And it was perfect. He was home. He had Noah. And it was a brand new day.
THE END