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Part Three:  The Long Journey
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'There is a small oasis, just ahead,' Starsky murmured.  'We will stop there, and wait until sunset to continue.  The other camel train will join with us there.'

'You might have to help me down off the camel,' said Ken.

'Poor Hutch,' said Starsky, soft and low.  It was the voice of his lover of last night, and not that of the uncertain adolescent of the morning.  Starsky had confused him several times on this journey, as he mutated from child to man, and back again.

'I haven't ridden a camel for several years,' Ken allowed.  'But it's not only that.  You were with me last night.'

'I was?' Starsky asked.  'I don't remember.'

'It was your future self.  You visited me in my own time, and we lay together.   It was good.  Very good.  But it left me sore.'

Starsky gasped.  His brother Nicholai was riding just ahead, and he turned to see what the problem was.  'I thought I saw a snake,' Starsky explained.  Nicholai nodded, and looked around nervously.

'Clever,' Ken murmured.  He tightened his arms around Starsky's waist, and rested his head on the broad shoulders.

'Why?' asked Starsky.  'Why did I make you sore?'  This was the bewildered voice of the little boy.

'Ah. That would take hours to explain,' said Ken.  'If we manage to find some time alone, I will show you.  That's easier.'

'But... I would never want to hurt you, no matter how far in the future I went.  I love you.  Tell me I didn't hurt you.'

'Not hurt,' said Ken.  'You didn't hurt me.  Just stretched me a little.'

Starsky gasped again, then laughed.  'Stop teasing me, Hutch,' he whispered.  But now he sounded less bewildered, and more knowing.

'Who are you talking to, brother?' asked Nicholai.

'No one,' said Starsky.  'I am praying.  Praying there are no snakes, and we will find the oasis soon, and there will be no brigands on our journey.'

Nicholai looked a little suspicious, but he nodded again.  'That is wise,' he said.

Starsky lowered his voice, and continued, to Ken.  'And I am praying you will stop talking to me about being stretched.  You are putting very strange and interesting pictures into my mind.'

'I'm sorry,' said Ken.  'You came to me in my own time, and we lay together.  You taught me how to make love, body to body and soul to soul.  It was like nothing I had ever known.  And then, you told me I was the one who showed you how to make love.  So, I have followed you back, into your time, to show you.'

'I've never been with a man, that way,' said Starsky, his voice very low and soft.  'I was with a woman.  Several of us boys got together, and visited one of the village whores.  Until we marry, that is the only choice we have.  You told me once it was different in your time, that a girl and a boy could be together without marriage.  And that two men could be together without suffering death for their desires.  That it was so much easier for people to be with the ones they love.'

'Yes,' said Ken.  'Much easier.  But perhaps too much easier, I think.'

'Why do think it is too much easier?' asked Starsky.  He sounded bewildered.

Ken thought about this for a long time, before answering.  Starsky shifted around in his seat to look behind him, as if checking for snakes in the sand, or brigands in the dunes behind them.  He lifted a curious eyebrow in Ken's direction.

'I think,' said Ken at last.  'That if all relationships are completely allowed, and if you can always find a replacement for the one you love, perhaps there is less passion.'

'Perhaps that is a good thing,' said Starsky.  'And not a bad thing.'

'Perhaps,' said Ken.

They were silent for a time, and then Starsky asked.  'Do you not think it is a good thing?  Wouldn't you want us to be together?'

'More than anything in all the world,' said Ken.  'We will be together some day.  I swear it.'

'I would die, to be with you,' said Starsky.

'You said that last night.'

'I seem to have said a lot of things last night, and done a lot of things last night, and yet I can remember none of it.  It is very unfair.'

'Don't worry,' said Ken.  'Tonight, I will make it up to you.  And some day, you will remember it all.'

'We will be travelling most of the night,' Starsky pointed out.

Ken sighed with frustration.

'Never mind,' said Starsky.  'There is our oasis, right ahead.  We will find time to be alone.'

The oasis was small.  It was also very quiet.  It seemed they had the place to themselves.

'The other camel train should be here by now,' Starsky pointed out.

'They were delayed by something on the road, that is all,' suggested Nicholai.

'Delayed by what, though?  That is what worries me,' said their mother.

'It could be something very simple,' said Grandfather Starsky.  'In any case, we cannot go on until they arrive.  Once past this oasis, we are heading far out into the Western Desert.  Let us pitch our tents, and await their arrival.'

'I have my own tent,' said David Starsky, smugly.  'It is small, but big enough for two.  I made it myself, with scraps of leftover material, and old rope.'

'It looks like a patchwork quilt,' said Ken, as Starsky opened it, and began pitching it in a quiet corner of the oasis.  But Starsky hadn't done too bad a job, he had to admit.  'I wish I could give you a hand,' he added.

'Oh, that would be a good idea,' said Starsky, with a laugh.  'Make me look like a magician, in front of everyone.  Either they will all run off into the desert with terror, or they will burn me at the stake as a witch.'

'Would they really do that?' asked Ken.

'I'm not sure.  Probably they would not, and yet I don't want to tempt fate, merely to find out.'

'Good thinking,' said Ken.

'What are you praying for now, brother?' said Nicholai.  He had come up behind them, and Ken hadn't noticed.

'I am praying for help with my tent,' said Starsky.  'And it has worked.  Here, pull on this rope.'

'Pull on it yourself,' said Nicholai.  'It is your tent.'  He stalked off, and disappeared into the palm trees.

'Some help you are,' said Starsky.  'What is so funny?' he asked Ken.

'Pull on it yourself?'  Ken snickered.

'Stop this right now,' said Starsky.  ' Wait until everyone is asleep.'

*************

Everyone was asleep, or trying to sleep, in what shade they could find in the oasis under the noonday sun.  Starsky had pitched his tent far from the rest of the family group.  'I am glad now, that the other travellers have not arrived,' he said.  'There is room for us to spread out around the oasis.  My family all think I am strange. Ever since I was a boy, and I used to go off and play by myself.  They thought I didn't like other people, but I do.'

'I'm sorry,' said Ken.  'Being friends with me led them to think you were anti-social.'

'Anti-social?  That is an interesting term.  I have never heard it before.  I love it when you say things I've never heard before.'

Ken smiled.  'Is anyone around to listen right now?' he asked.  'Or do you think they are all asleep?'

Starsky looked outside.  'No one is moving,' he observed.  'Not even Nicholai, and he is too lazy to come out in this heat now that the tents are pitched.  Why?  Do you have something else interesting to say to me?'  He turned around. 'Ah.  I see.  That is interesting,' he said.

Ken had taken off his gallabiyya, and stood only in his Jockey shorts.  'I have some fresh water,' he said, holding out a full jug.  'I got it from the spring when no one was looking.  Why don't we wash each other, just to cool down?'

'Will that cool us down?' asked Starsky.

'It might, for a time.'

Starsky pulled off his own gallabiyya.  He wore nothing underneath.  His penis stood up erect, proud and unconfined.  He walked toward Ken, holding out his arms.  'I'm thirsty,' he said.  'Let us drink first, and bathe later.'

Ken put down the jug of water, and held out his own arms.  Starsky pounced upon him, a leopard pouncing upon its prey.  Or he leapt into his embrace as a gazelle leaping into the clutches of a leopard.

'You will explain to me your words of this morning,' said Starsky, with mock ferocity.  'Explain to me how I stretched you, or I won't be able to ride with you, all night long, so close, and yet so far away.'

'Yes,' said Ken.  'I held you in my arms all morning.  Didn't you feel how hard I was, pressed against you?'

'I did.  But I tried to... Hutch!  Stop changing the subject.'

'What is the subject?' asked Ken.  'This?'  He pulled Starsky closer, and kissed him.  They tumbled together to the floor of the tent.  Starsky's naked penis pressed against the soft, damp cotton of his Jockey shorts, and Starsky gasped, and pulled back a little.

'I don't want to... not so quickly,' he explained.  'Hutch.  I am so close.  I want it to be slower, and better.  Like my dreams.'

'Do you dream?' asked Ken.  'Do you dream of me?'

'Yes.  I dream of you.  And I have wanted you for so many years.  But I don't understand why.  I know what it says in the Bible.  That it is wrong for a man to lie with another man.  But I don't understand how it can be done.  Not truly.'

'If I show you how, perhaps you will be disgusted,' said Ken.

'No.  Never.  How could I be disgusted by love?' asked Starsky.

'Some people are,' said Ken.

'Not I,' said Starsky.

'A man has openings in his body,' said Ken, his voice trembling a little with both amusement and tenderness.  And not a little awe at his own temerity.  He had never instructed anyone in the mechanics of sexual intercourse, before.  'There is my mouth, see.  I can do this.'  He bent, and took Starsky's cock into his mouth, and sucked.

'Ah!' said Starsky.  'Ah.  Ah.'

Ken stopped sucking, and lifted his head.  'You might want to stuff something in your mouth,' he suggested.  'Or we'll have the entire camp here in the tent, to see if you've been bitten by a scorpion.'

'I have been bitten by a scorpion,' said Starsky.  'And its venom is running through my blood right now, burning me up with its fever.  Go back to sucking on me.  Perhaps you can suck the venom out, and save my life.'

'Or I can show you where the other opening is,' said Ken.

'I know about another opening.  But would I really fit?' asked Starsky.

'You can always try,' said Ken.  'You fit fine in here last night.  And men have been doing these things to each other since time began.'  He took Starsky's hand, and placed it between his own buttocks.  'There,' he said.  'Feel me.  It's a tight fit, but it will stretch.'

'Oh!' said Starsky, some time later.  'You are so very tight.  Like nothing I have ever felt.  You have imprisoned me, and I will never escape.'

'Do you want to escape?' asked Ken.

Starsky looked down into his eyes, with the eyes of a lover.  With the eyes of a leopard about to kill his prey.   With the eyes of a gazelle about to be devoured by a leopard.  'No,' he said.

******************

'My family will expect me to marry, of course,' said Starsky.  They were lying in the exhausted state common to satisfied lovers, in all times and places.

'Are you looking forward to it?' asked Ken.

Starsky appeared to give deep consideration to his question.  'Am I looking forward to it? I think... I think I've resigned myself to it.  I don't know the girl well. Her name is Deborah.  I saw her once, several years ago, and she was a child then.  She is fourteen now, quite old enough to marry.  She will make a good, obedient wife, and give me children.  I suppose we will come to love each other.  But will we understand each other, as you and I understand each other?  She will know nothing about the pleasures we just shared.'

'No,' said Ken.  'You must teach her.'  

Deborah? That didn't sound right, but perhaps....

'Are you not jealous of this girl I must teach?' asked Starsky.  'I will lie with her, like this, and put myself inside her.  We will share the things you and I have shared.'

'I'm not jealous,' said Ken, truthfully.  'But I wish....'  He couldn't go on.  The wish was too fragile to be spoken out loud.

Starsky had no such qualms.  'You wish we could be together,' he said.  'In your world, or mine.  Or together in a world all our very own.  Yes.  I wish that too.  But what life would we have?  Even if I could come to live in your world, as a visible living person, and not an invisible spirit, could I survive there?  You have told me about it, and I've seen it once or twice when I visited you.  I saw a great metal ship, flying in the air, and I was terrified. But I could get used to those things, perhaps?'

'Perhaps,' said Ken.

'But you do not think so.  Neither do I... but all this is fantasy, besides.  I cannot come to your world, and you cannot live in mine.  I would try, if I could...  Would it trouble you, if I married this girl?  If it troubles you, I will refuse.'

'No.  Don't do that.  I have reason to believe... I believe you marry, and have a son.  I know that.  You cannot change the future, just for me.'

'I would change the past for you,' said Starsky.  'I would change the entire universe for you. But I will follow your wishes in this, as in everything.'  He bent down to kiss Hutch, and it seemed they were not so exhausted after all.  It seemed that the time of active pleasure was to begin again.

They were interrupted.

'Raiders!'

'Bandits!'

'David.  Wake up,' Nicholai called.  He was just outside the tent.

Starsky rolled out of the bedroll, and pulled his gallabiyya over his head.  Ken did the same.  Then he bent over his backpack, and found his gun.  He ran out of the tent, right on Starsky's heels.

It was dusk.  On the horizon, the desert moon was already rising, huge and blood red. On a hill above the oasis, a band of raiders on horseback were looking down upon the little caravan, their swords raised.  Muskets too, Ken noted.

'Gather the women and children,' David Starsky shouted.  'And whatever can be used as weapons.  Knives.  Swords.  Stones.'

'Stones?' asked Nicholai, with a laugh.  'Are you King David?  Are you going to kill Goliath with your slingshot?'

'No. With this,' said Starsky.  He drew a pistol from the sleeve of his gallabiyya.

Ken smiled.  Starsky's pistol was a single shot, but it looked to be one of the most advanced weapons available here in Egypt.  The raiders were unlikely to have anything better.  'German, isn't it?' he asked Starsky.

The man flashed him a fierce smile of his own.  It was the smile of a warrior about to face battle.  Ken set his shoulder against his lover's, and checked the clip on his own revolver.  'This fires six shots before I have to reload,' he said.  'But that pistol you carry is more accurate.'  It was true enough, and would give Starsky confidence.

'Then I'll make every shot count,' said Starsky.  'At least they can't see you.  But that won't make you invincible.  They could hit you by accident if they're aiming at me, so be careful.'

The raiders howled and screamed, as they began their descent down the hill.  It was strange, thought Ken, how something so simple could be so frightening.  The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  Most of the women and children were huddled together and crying.  Starsky's mother, in contrast, was calm.  She held a knife in each hand, and her face was set and cold.

Ken waited until he could see the raiders' faces, then took aim, and fired.  Until that moment, he hadn't been really sure it would work.  Only Starsky could see him and hear his voice in this world, and this had made him doubt the bullets would reach their targets.  But everyone heard the report of his gun, and saw the first raider fall.  And the second.  And the third.

'Your pistol is accurate enough,' Starsky remarked.  He fired his own pistol, and another raider jerked, and fell backwards off his horse, spurting blood.  Quickly, Starsky pulled a new ball from his pocket, rammed it into the barrel of his pistol, put new firing powder in the pan, and pulled the trigger.  The flint sparked, and he took down his second raider.

That was the end.  The raiders turned their horses, and fled back up the hill.  Hutchinson loaded a new clip, and fired several warning shots after them, but didn't try to hit them in the back as they rode.  It was folly, he thought.  The bandits would only go on to attack other innocent travellers.  And yet, he couldn't become like them.  Killing a man in self defence was one thing.  Killing a man running away was something else.  Starsky smiled with approval.

The other members of the caravan were strangely silent.  There was none of the cheering that one would expect from people rescued from certain death.

'How?' asked Starsky's mother.  'How did you kill so many men with such a small gun.'

'King David killed Goliath with his slingshot, Mother,' Starsky pointed out.

'Yes, but...'

Mistress Starsky didn't finish her sentence.

When the raiders fled, most of the riderless horses had run with them, staying with their fellows.  One horse had not.  What had appeared to be a cumbersome saddle roll, had grown arms, and an arm had grasped the horse's reins.  The saddle roll had managed to sit up, after a fashion.  From the midst of a tangle of long, dark hair, a voice emerged.

'Don't shoot me.  I'm unarmed.'

A female voice.

'I am Judith.  Judith Levy.  I was captured by the bandits, when they raided my caravan.  Don't shoot.'

'We won't shoot,  Mistress Levy,' Starsky assured her.

The horse was spooking, and looked ready to run off with its rider.   But the woman gained control of her mount once again.  Starsky ran up and held the horse's reins, and the young woman climbed down from its back.  She stumbled, and almost fell.  Ken could see why.  Blood ran down her thighs.  She was pale, and clearly terrified and in pain, but she held her head high, and looked Starsky in the eyes.

'I was dishonoured by those men,' she said.  'Will you grant me your protection, as an honourable gentleman?' she asked.

'Of course,' said Starsky.  'You have my word.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Mistress Levy.  Her legs collapsed under her, and she sank down upon the ground.

**************************

The women had bustled Mistress Levy away, to bathe her and care for her wounds.

'The raiders killed her family, Hutch,' said Starsky.  'She is an orphan, and no longer a virgin.  What will become of her?'

'You have offered her your protection,' Ken pointed out.

Starsky turned wide blue eyes on him.  'I have,' he said.  'I am not officially betrothed.  But my family will be angry.  Her family, too.'

'What do you mean?' Ken began.  But he was interrupted.

'Who is there with you, my son?'

They had not heard Mistress Starsky's approach.

'Mother,' said David Starsky.  'No one is with me, as you can see.'

'I can see that you appear to be alone,' his mother agreed.  'But you appeared to be alone earlier, facing an entire army with one pistol, and defeating them.'

'It was no army, Mother.  Merely a band of cowardly raiders.'

'So you say now.  Were you so confident earlier?  I was not.  And yet, we are all still alive.  Who was it fought at your side, David?  Tell me true.'

'Mother. I... I have always had a companion by my side.  I told you when I was young, but you didn't believe me.  Do you believe me now?'

'I think I believe you, but it frightens me.  Who is he, this companion of whom you speak?  An evil spirit?'

'No!  Not evil.  He saved us all.  You saw that yourself.'

'He saved you, maybe,' said Mistress Starsky, grudgingly.  'But the rest of us? Does he care about us, or only you?'

'He cares about you, I think.  I'll ask him later.  All that matters right now, is that we're all still alive, as you pointed out, and he helped save us from an army.  How is Mistress Levy?'

'Well enough.  As well as can be expected.  Are you trying to distract me by changing the subject?'

'Of course, Mother.  But Mistress Levy's problems are the more important subject.'

'You think so?  But you are a man.  Why do you care about her problems?'

'Does caring about her problems make me less of a man?  She asked for my protection, and I gave it to her.'

'How far are you prepared to go, to give her your protection?  You are betrothed to another woman.'

'The betrothal was never finalized,' said Starsky.  'It can be broken off.'

'You would do that for her?  Every man in that band of thieves had her.'

'No.  They stole her body, for a time.  But they don't own her.  No one does.  I could see that.  Didn't you notice her pride and her dignity?  That is a real woman.'

'You've fallen in love with her?' Mistress Starsky asked, with amazement.

'Perhaps,' said Starsky.  'I admire her, at least.  I hope she will accept my offer.'

'How could she turn it down?  No sensible man would have her.'

Starsky shrugged.  'I suppose everyone will look on me as a fool.  So be it.'  He turned to look at Ken.  'Are you jealous now?' he asked.

'No,' said Ken.  'I am relieved.  I knew your wife's name, you see.  It was not Deborah.  It was Judith.'

'Then it is settled,' said Starsky.  'I told you I would follow your wishes, and I will.'

'So you will marry a disgraced woman, on the advice of an evil spirit?' asked Mistress Starsky.  'Are you truly my son?'

'I thought I was your son.  Are you truly my mother?  Don't you have any sympathy for the oppressed?  You only care about what other people will think?  What sort of woman are you?'  David Starsky stomped off, leaving his mother open-mouthed.

'You didn't handle that very well, did you?' asked Ken.  He brushed past Mistress Starsky, and she shivered with a sudden chill.  'Yes,' he whispered in her ear.  'I'm real, but I'm not evil, and I care about your son.  Judith is the right wife for him.  I can quote you chapter and verse on that.'

*****
The last rays of the sun sank below the horizon.  The little caravan started off alone, across the vast desert.

*****

'Spirit?  Senor Spirit?'

Ken turned from his contemplation of the moon rising over the Cairo skyline.  He had a caller, he thought.  Unusual for him.

'Mrs. Starsky.  How nice of you to drop by.  I'd offer you my hand, but it would go right through yours.  Please.  Have a seat.  I'd get you something to drink, but you'd probably faint, if you saw cups floating through the air.'

'Senor Spirit,' Mrs. Starsky continued, as if Ken had not spoken.  'I know you are here, somewhere in the garden.  I heard my son talking to you earlier.  I'm sure you didn't follow him into his wedding chamber.  My son tells me you are an honourable man.'

Ken choked.  'Thanks,' he told David Starsky's mother.  'I try to be honourable.  But also, I'm no voyeur.  I'm happy my lover has found a woman he cares about for his wife, but I don't want to watch....'

'My son tells me you are a good person,' Mrs. Starsky went on, again ignoring Ken's own narrative.  'I  don't understand what is between you.  I think you have bewitched him.  But he is stronger because of you.  He seemed lost, like a boat floating at sea, until you came along.  He was a boy, a wild boy.  And now he is a man.  When he said he would marry Judith, I was horrified.  A woman who was raped!  She is valueless, in the eyes of men.  The eyes of men are the only eyes that count, in this world.  I don't like it, but there it is.  Once, he would never have stood up to his entire family, to all of society, like that.  But he did, and it has made a man of him.  He told me, it was because of what you taught him. You told him that men and women were equal, in your world.  Is this true?'

'True enough,' Ken murmurred.  'More true than not.'

'Your ideas are dangerous, Senor Spirit.  You have made a man of my son, but a dangerous man.  He seems to care nothing for anyone's opinion but yours, anymore.  I admire that, but I fear it too.  What will become of him, if this goes on?'

'I don't know, but maybe he'll become even more of a man.'

'People are talking about him.  They're starting to call him a warlock.  They say he talks to spirits.  They say he has a familiar spirit that protects him.  You, Senor Spirit. You protect him. I have seen that.  But can you protect him from everyone and everything?  It's not so dangerous here, as it was in Spain -- as it is now in Spain, and in Germany.  But that could change. What if the Egyptians decide we Jews are evil necromancers, and use my son as an example?  People are not always logical, especially when they're afraid.'

'That is true,' Ken agreed.

'You should leave, Senor Spirit,' said Mrs. Starsky.  'My son has married, and his wife is a good woman.  I know that now.  She will make him a good wife.  I can see that she cares about him, and she owes him her loyalty, and obedience.  What would her life have been, if he hadn't married her, and given her his name?  My son is a good man.  You should leave now.  Let him have a happy, normal life.  What does he need with spirits from another world?'

'Good question,' said Ken.

'You should leave, Senor Spirit,' said Mrs. Starsky, one last time.  'Return to your own world.'

She looked around the garden, shrugged, and went back into the house.

Ken leaned his head in his hands, wearily.  Return to my own world, he thought.  It was not so easy as that.  The gate to his own time was back in Luxor.  Here in Cairo, he was trapped.  A ghost from the future.  At first, this life as a ghost had not been so bad.  It had been fun, playing little tricks on people who couldn't see him.  But the fun had worn off, long ago.  David Starsky was his sole respite from the horrors of constant invisibility.  And lately, with the wedding plans, the fuss with his family over his choice of bride, and tonight's wedding celebrations, David had not had much time for him.  He tried, but there were only so many hours in the day.  Or in the night.

The nights were wonderful, whatever happened in the day.  Or they had been wonderful.  Now, David was married.  He should be spending his nights with his bride, not with his male lover.  Once again, Ken was the third person in a threesome.  It was no longer a comfortable position.  This was Cairo in the 16th century, and an orthodox Jewish household. Not late 20th century Los Angelos.

'Hutch?' asked a soft voice.

Ken turned in surprise.  'Starsky?  What are you doing out here?  It's your wedding night.'

'Shh.  Keep your voice down.  Let's find someplace private.'  Starsky kept his voice very low and soft, rather than whispering.   Whispers carried.

They found an empty shed at the bottom of the garden, and slipped inside.

'No lectures about wedding nights, please.  My wedding night went as far as it could go, for now.  I promised Judith I wouldn't force her into any intimacies she wasn't ready for.  She's a brave woman, Hutch.  But she was raped by a dozen men and more.  Repeatedly.  She was so torn up....'

'I know,' said Hutch.  'I understand.  Of course you cannot force her.  But you should be with her.  If someone sees you out here, they'll talk.'

'My mother has been at you, hasn't she?' said Starsky.  'Shh.' He put his fingers over Ken's mouth, gently.  'My mother worries, and now she's making you worry. My mother thinks you will come between me and Judith.  Judith and I are fine.  We understand each other.  I want her as a wife, and I expect her obedience and submission to me as her lord and master.  When she's ready....  Don't laugh.  Of course it is a joke.  What man is ever lord and master?  But we have to put on a show for the world, don't we?'  Starsky asked, plaintively.  'Mostly for other men,' he added.  'Women aren't really fooled.'

Ken chuckled, but he agreed.  'Yes,' he said.  'We have to maintain appearances.  But that's why I'm worried about you being seen out here in the garden.  They'll think Judith has bewitched you.  Or I have bewitched you.  Or you aren't really....'

'Not really a man?' asked Starsky.  'I'm a man.  Once Judith is ready, I'll be ready. I can do what's expected of me.  But I want it to be more.  I want it to be pleasure.  For me, and for her.  She's willing to lie under me, submissively, and take what I give her.  But I've lain with a lover.  With you.  I know the difference. I told her...  I told her I've had a male lover.'

'Ah.  Do you think....'

'Do I think it was safe to tell her?  Yes.  We had a long talk, about intimacy, and the duties of a wife and a husband.  Judith told me she couldn't understand why anyone would want to do those things.  Why women tolerated it.  I told her that it was wonderful to have someone you loved inside you, and she asked how I could possibly know that.  Well, I had to explain.  Are you angry?'

'No.  Of course not.  What did she say?  What did she think?'

'She was fascinated.  She asked me many questions, and seemed to lose all her fear of the subject.  We got undressed, and into bed, and I invited her to touch me, and she did.  And she even let me touch her, a little.  Like this.'  Starsky ran his hands down Ken's thighs.

'You're using me to seduce your wife?' Ken asked, pretending offence.

Starsky laughed.  'It's working,' he said, and kissed Ken again.

'That's good,' said Ken.  'I'm glad you will be having a happy life together.'

'Hutch!  You sound as if you will have no part in my life.  Don't talk like that.'

'Starsky, what part can I have? You know I can't stay forever.  When we get back to Luxor....'

'I know.  You must go home, to your own time. But we'll visit each other again. We must.'

'Yes,' said Ken.

'You sound so sad.  You told me I should marry, and I chose someone who won't resent our love for each other.  She won't, Ken. I know it.  And you swore you would not be jealous.'

'I'm not,' said Ken.  'It's just... I had a lover before you.  He was married, too.  Married before he met me.  His wife liked me, and accepted me, and for a while, everything was fine.  But I wasn't the most important person in his life.'

'Well, you are in mine,' said Starsky.

'That isn't fair,' said Ken.  'Your wife should come first.'

'Judith doesn't want to come first,' said Starsky.  'The idea frightens her.  When I told her I loved someone else -- you -- she was relieved.  She knows I won't ask more of her than she can give.  She knows I won't come to her, filled with unbridled lust, and force myself upon her.  I have you, for that.'

'Do you?' asked Ken.

'I do,' said Starsky.

'Well, not too unbridled, I hope.  We'll knock the shed down, if we're too unbridled.'

'You're so romantic,' said Starsky.

It was good, thought Ken.  Still so good, in spite of everything.  It was what kept him sane.  But it was not enough.  When they returned to Luxor, he must return to his own time as well, for both their sakes.


**********************

The market at Cairo was always entertaining, whatever century you were in, thought Ken.  And when he was in a large group of people, he felt less invisible.  People rarely noticed individuals in a crowd, unless they stood out for some reason.  Of course, in this crowd, he would have stood out, if he'd been visible.  People would have been staring, as they were now staring at the group of men just ahead.  Even Ken stared, for it had been so long since he had seen anyone of his own ethnic background.

'Hutch!' Starsky exclaimed.  Fortunately, the market was so noisy that only Ken noticed.

'Hush,' he said.  'People will think you're calling on your familiar.'

'I am,' Starsky said, with a grin.  'But, Hutch.  They are of your race.  That one there -- he looks just like you.'

'Yes.  They're Norwegian.  My forebears came from Norway, long ago.  I wonder what they are doing here.'

What they appeared to be doing, was arguing.  A heated discussion in several languages, and little understanding was being reached on any side.  Hutch strolled closer to listen, then waved Starsky over to join him.

'That man, the one with the red coat, he's trying to interpret, but his knowledge of Aramaic is rather slight.  The Norsemen, they want to explore up the Nile.  They say they want to find the source, and they've heard there's gold in them there hills.'

'Gold?' said Starsky.  'Certainly there is much gold in Africa, but who knows where it comes from.  It is a great mystery.'

'Mostly it comes from West Africa,' said Ken.  'Gold will be discovered in South Africa, in several hundred years.  Let's go talk to these great explorers.'

'Let us talk to them?' asked Starsky, his face a picture of bewilderment.  'They could not hear a word you said, and I can't speak a word of their language.'

'Just say what I tell you to say,' Ken explained.   'I'll translate for you.'

Starsky shrugged, but complied.  He strolled up to the tall, blond men casually, and bowed.  'Gentlemen!' he said in Norwegian, following Hutch's instructions.  'You look to be in trouble.  I may be able to help you.'  He spoke slowly, stumbled over some of the words, and his accent was puzzling, but he was comprehensible.

The blond men laughed, heartily.

'Lars here is a fool,' said the tallest of the men.  'There is no help for that.'

'There may be help,' said Starsky.  'My name is David Starsky, and I am no fool.  I heard some of your conversation.  If we could go somewhere more private, I might be able to suggest a course of action.'

The blond men muttered among themselves.  'I don't know,' said one of them, the man called Lars.  'Why should we trust this stranger? He is no Norseman.  He speaks Norse, but oddly.  Too oddly for my taste.  And why is he offering to help us?  What is in it for him?'

'We trusted you, Lars,' said the tallest man.  'And look you where it has led us.'

A man stood close to the tallest man, shoulder to shoulder.  He was a little darker than the other men, but his eyes were very light blue, and sparkled like blue gemstones.  As Ken leaned close to Starsky to translate, the man turned those eyes full upon him.  He leant closer to his companion, and whispered something in the other man's ear, too low for Ken to overhear.

The other man started, and looked more closely at Starsky, as though searching for his invisible companion.  Clearly his search was in vain, and he shrugged, but nodded at his friend's insistent whispers.

'David Starsky,' he said.  'You are welcome. My name is Olaf Hutchinson.  Come you back to our lodgings, and we will discuss our business in greater privacy, as you suggest.'  He leant in close, and added, into Starsky's ear, 'And bring your familiar with you.  He is welcome also.'

*****************

'Hutch!' David Starsky whispered excitedly, as they strolled to the lodgings of the Norsemen.  'He is from your family.  One of the Hutchinsons.  He could be your grandfather.'

'My great-great-great grandfather,' said Ken.  'Or something like that.'

'Your Forefather.  One of the Ancients of your Lineage.'

'Yes, but I wonder what this all means,' said Ken.

'What this all means? You're worried again, aren't you?'

'Worried?' asked Ken.

'I know you worry,' said Starsky.  'You worry about changing the future.  Or about changing the past, which will change the future.  Or something,' said Starsky.  'But Hutch, we are part of each other.  You are my future, and I am your past. We are fate.  How could we alter that?'

'I hope you're right,' said Ken.

'Of course I am right,' said Starsky, sounding offended.

The dark Norseman with the bright blue eyes looked at them over his shoulder, and smiled.  The smile sent shivers down Ken's back.  He didn't think the other man was evil.  Nor did he appear to be dangerous, or have bad intentions toward them.  Ken wasn't sure what he appeared to be, that was the problem.  Who was he?  What was he?  What were his intentions?

'My name is Kai Seljelid, and I am a Seidhrman,' said the mysterious Norwegian.  'I am possessed of no intentions, as yet.  I will study you, and form my intentions hence.'

'I see,' said Ken Hutchinson.

'Have no fear, unless you are evil, and I think you are not.'

'I am not evil, and I have no fear,' said Ken.

'That is well,' said Kai Seljelid.

They had reached the door to the Norsemen's lodgings, and their hosts waved them inside.

'How do I tell them I am Jewish?' Starsky inquired.  'If I keep it from them, they may be angered when they learn the truth.  They likely think I am Egyptian, and possibly Christian.'

'And would be enraged to learn differently?' asked Ken.

'You never know,' said Starsky.

Ken shrugged, but he told Starsky how to inform their new aquaintances of his Jewish status.

'Does that mean you cannot sit and eat with us?' asked Kai Seljelid.

'Not at all,' said David Starsky.

'Good,' said their host.  'But I was under the impression that Jews could not socialize with those not of their faith.  That we were unclean, or something.'

'I was under the impression that Norsemen were Vikings, and went about raping and pillaging,' said Starsky.

'Ancient history,' said Olaf Hutchinson.

'But you are in search of gold,' Starsky pointed out.

'Yes, but we hope it will be a peaceful search, that will not result in death and destruction.'

'Tell him we can  lead them to the gold fields,' Ken murmurred into Starsky's ear.

'Gold fields?' asked Starsky.  'In West Africa, you said.  Or far south.  What terrors lie there?'

'Terrors, yes,' Ken admitted.  'But perhaps the future of our families.  I told you I know some of that future.  Our families are linked, and we become wealthy.  Perhaps this is how.  I don't care about the money, but if we change the future....'

'No,' said Starsky.  'We must remain linked, for all time.  The money doesn't matter in the end, but it will be useful, too.  Do you truly know how to find the gold?'

'We must return to Luxor,' said Ken.  'I will find some of those amazing, modern inventions you love so much.   And we will go on an expedition, to find our future.'

'Be careful,' said Kai Seljelid.  'The future is a dangerous country.  It holds grief, as well as joy.'

'I know,' said Ken Hutchinson.  'But I am this man's future.'  He pointed at Olaf Hutchinson.  'I am his great-great grandson.  Many years in the future.'

'And you are this man's lover,' said Seljelid, indicating Starsky.  'Oh, do not fear.  It is dangerous to admit such a thing in our time, I know.  Both Olaf and I know this.  But we keep the old ways, when it was not so fearsome.  Some of us secretly resist being Christianized.'

'You are a Seidhrman,' said Ken.  'Of the old, pagan faith.'

'We still worship Thor, and the other old Gods, yes,' said Seljelid.  'In your future, it is not so fearsome.'

'What are you saying, Hutch?' asked Starsky.  'I cannot understand your babbling, even though you've been making me babble like that for some time, now.'

'We've reached an understanding,' said Ken.  'We are off to seek our fortunes.'

'That is good,' said Starsky.  'Anything to get away from my family.  I will take my wife with us, and perhaps she will come to like me.'

****************

Ken had grown used to being invisible to everyone but Starsky.  For several months, his entire world had revolved around his lover.  Now, there was someone else who could see and hear him, if in a somewhat limited fashion.   Kai Seljelid and Olaf Hutchinson had become friends, and they spent many hours sitting by their campfire in the evening, talking.

Starsky seemed a little jealous, which amused Ken.

'I'm not!' said Starsky.

'Not what?' asked Ken.

'Not jealous,' said Starsky.

'I didn't say you were,' Ken pointed out.

'No?  Well, you were thinking such a thing.'

'You can read my mind, now?'

'Yes.  Reading your mind is easy.  There is not that much to read.  Your head is beautiful, but empty.'

Ken pretended to look annoyed.  In truth, it was entertaining when Starsky insulted him. It made him feel less invisible, for some strange reason.  'We will be back in Luxor by tomorrow, if all goes well,' he pointed out.  He gazed out across the desert, as if it held the secrets of the future, locked into each grain of sand.

'Yes,' said Starsky, slowly.  'And you will be back in your own time,' he added.  He was silent for a moment, gazing straight ahead, and Ken wondered what he was thinking.

'Does that disturb you?' he asked.

'Disturb me?  Perhaps,' said Starsky.  'Perhaps I am jealous.  Jealous of this world where you truly belong.  What if you don't return to me?  What if the wonders of your own time prove to be too alluring? What if your own time loves you so much, it will not let you go?'  He turned to look at Ken, and his eyes were fierce.  'I would fight that world for you,' he said.

'You have said something like that before,' Ken pointed out.  'Why?  Why do you love me so much?'

'Because you know me,' said Starsky.  'More than anyone else knows me.  And I know you.'

Ken thought about all this for a while.  He thought about the wonders of his own time.  And he thought about the horrors.  He turned, and looked into Starsky's bright, blue eyes.  'Yes,' he said, at last.  'I'll come back to you.  There are things I need, that only my time can give me.'

'The firearms.  And the maps.'

'Yes. I need more ammunition.  But I will return.'

'Then I will let you go.  But don't be too long, or I will haunt you, for all time.'

****

'You are needing an anchor, that is all,'  Kai Seljelid had told him.

Ken had turned to study the speaker, raising an eyebrow.

'Ah, it was obvious,' Seljelid had informed him.  'You are concerned that you will not find your way about the labyrinth of time.  In your day, I believe they do not teach the World Tree, and its many twisted branches.'

'No,' Ken had admitted.  'That was not one of the subjects I studied at University.  But I have read about the World Tree.  I'm not quite so ignorant as you suppose.'

'I believe you.  I am sure you know many wondrous things of which I am ignorant.'  Seljelid had smiled.  'How much of what you know will help you now?'

'Not much,' said Ken.  'But I will astonish you with my knowledge later.  Tell me.  How may an anchor help me?'

'If you travel through time, you must keep in mind where and when you wish to be.  Otherwise, you will lose your way completely.'

'Starsky is my anchor, in this time and place.'

Seljelid had nodded.  'Then, if you are to leave his time, what will draw you from him?'

Ken thought of his home, his family.  His career.  His friends and lovers in Los Angeles.  All of it together held not half the power of David Starsky's blue eyes.  He must return to the future, to the correct time in the future, if he and David Starsky were to have any future together.  There must be a way, he thought.  It was fate.  It was meant to be.

Ken gazed up the deep, primitive stone stairwell.  His grandfather had bought this house.  He knew, he must have known, about the past, about its history, and its link to his family, and the Starsky family.  His grandfather had known, and somehow he had known that Ken himself could make the journey from the present into the past.   "One day, you will know yourself as I know you, and then you will understand why I made you my heir."

Ken began to climb.  The stairwell was cool, after days in the heat of the desert.  Each stone step was taking him closer to his own time, but further from his own heart, he thought.  But his grandfather had known this was his fate.  He had left him the house as his legacy, and insisted he live in it.

Ken could hear the tread of his feet upon the stone steps.  His footsteps echoed oddly in the stone stairwell.  The stairwell looked as if it had been carved out of the cliff side, rough hewn by a giant hand.  His footsteps sounded like the footsteps of giants, deep and thrumming.  His own breath echoed in his own ears, like the deep breathing of a giant.  He stepped out upon the lookout, drew another breath, and looked down.  There, below him, was the modern town of Luxor.  He had done it.  He had made the journey through Time, and reached his destination.

He heard footsteps behind him on the stairwell.  Perhaps the housekeeper?  He turned, ready with an explanation for his sudden reappearance.

The figure standing in the doorway was certainly not his housekeeper.  Tall, with blond hair turning white.  Old, but not as old as the last time they had met.

'Kenneth?' asked the visitor.

Ken closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, the ghost was still there.

'Grandfather,' he said.


**************

'Sit down,' said Lawrence Hutchinson.  'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Ken sat down.  He looked around the library.  It looked the same.  But then, it had looked that way for years.

'Have you?' asked his grandfather.

'Have I what?'

'Seen a ghost?  No.  Never mind.  Of course you have.  That's why you're here.  I left you this house in my will, and I'm dead, and you inherited it.  In more ways than one.'

'Grandfather....'

'I told you.  Never mind.  Of course I'm dead.  We all die.  We don't like to admit it, and that's natural.  We live from day to day, believing we will live forever.  And so we will, in our own little universe.  When we die, time stops for us.'  Lawrence Hutchinson busied himself at the small bar, pouring out glasses of whiskey.

'Yes,'  said Ken.

'But in your universe, I've died.  You moved into this house, and discovered its secrets.  Re-discovered, I mean.  Have you remembered?  Being a child here, and travelling through time?'

'Yes,' said Ken.  'Some of it.  I... I met someone.'

'Yes.  Your little friend.  David was his name, right?  You often played with him, and he travelled to our time, to play with you.'

'How?  How does this all work, grandfather?'

Lawrence Hutchinson handed Ken his drink, and sat down across the study table with his own.  The two men sipped their drinks in silence for a moment.

'I'm not a physicist,' said Lawrence Hutchinson, at last.  'Or whatever sort of scientist could study and define this phenomenon.  All I know are the practical applications -- some of them, at least -- garnered from experience.  In our culture, we think of time as a straight line.  The idea of being able to return to the past, or jump ahead to the future, appears to us as mere fantasy.  Other cultures see time differently.'

'Time as circular.  Or as loops?' Ken suggested.

'Perhaps,' said his grandfather.  Then he lifted his finger, in what Ken recognized as his "quoting" pose.

"Physicists prefer to think of time as laid out in its entirety - a timescape, analogous to a landscape - with all past and future events located there together ... Completely absent from this description of nature is anything that singles out a privileged special moment as the present or any process that would systematically turn future events into the present, then past, events. In short, the time of the physicist does not pass or flow."

'Who said that?' asked Ken.

'Paul Davies, in his book "That Mysterious Flow",' said Lawrence Hutchinson.

'So, if time is a timescape, analogous to a landscape, then we can travel across time, the way we do across land.'

'We should be able to do so, but clearly it is not so simple.  Otherwise, we'd be inundated with tourists from the past and the future...'

'Which, according to the physicists do not exist,' Ken pointed out.

'Granted.  But nevertheless, how often have you seen people from ancient Rome walking the streets of New York City?'

'Only once or twice,' Ken admitted.

His grandfather grinned.  'I'm sorry I missed that.  I think that being a Time Traveller requires special abilities.  Or special equipment.  The equipment hasn't been invented yet, as far as the general public knows.  But if you have the ability, and you are in the right place on the landscape....'

'The stairwell,' said Ken.  'It's a tunnel.'

'Yes,' said his grandfather.  'For some of us, it's a tunnel.'

'A Time Tunnel.  Like on that old TV show.  But a natural one.'

'A point on the landscape where you can travel the timescape, if you have the ability.  But, in a sense, you still exist in your own time, still.  That's why the people in the time you visit can't see or hear you.'

'Some can,' Ken pointed out.

'Those who can travel across time themselves.  We see each other, when we meet.  It's as if we exist in our own special timescape.'

'We aren't like other people, in that way,' said Ken.  'We understand each other, as no one else understands us.'

His grandfather smiled.  'Ah,' he said.  'You have discovered that, have you?'

Ken looked down at the table.  He took another sip of his whiskey.  'Yes,' he said.  'But we cannot live in each other's time, because we will always be invisible there.'

'It's a great grief, when we discover that,' his grandfather agreed.

'There must be a way,' said Ken.  'Do you know a way?'

'I told you,' said Lawrence Hutchinson.  'I am not a physicist.  There might be many ways to join your friend, on a permanent basis.  To discover them would require experimentation.  Some of those experiments might turn out to be failures, in a fatal sense.  Would you risk that?  For yourself, or your friend?'  His grandfather sounded curious.  A scientist, studying a new phenomenon.

'For myself, perhaps.  For him, no.'

'Ah,' said his grandfather, again. 'Him.  This David Starsky.  You care so much for him?'

'I love him.  And he loves me.  I'm not sure yet, how deep that love goes, because I have never plumbed its depths.'

'You have risked travelling across time for him.  And this mission you are on, now.  This is for him, isn't it?'

'I need maps,' said Ken.  'Maps of Africa. The gold mines.  And ammunition.'

'Maps?  Africa?  The gold mines?'

'That is what our family fortune is based on,' said Ken.  'And the friendship between the Hutchinsons and the Starskys.  We must preserve the path of history, or we might not be born, and then will never meet.  I think.  Unless you think if we break with history, we will be born in the same time and place.  This is all giving me a headache.'

Lawrence Hutchinson smiled.  'How can you alter the path of history, or preserve it, for that matter?  All past and future events are located on the timescape together.'

'Ouch,' said Ken.

His grandfather got to his feet.  He went to his desk, and rummaged in a drawer.  'Maps,' he said.  'Maps of Africa.'  He spread the maps out on the table.  'Here.  Here are the family gold fields.'

'We own gold fields?  Fields?  In the plural?  How rich are we?'

Lawrence Hutchinson told him.

'Shit!' said Ken Hutchinson.

'Yes.  Exactly.  The family gold fields are a secret.  See this valley?  It's a secret, even today.  You're a detective.  You have a good memory.  Memorize the maps, because they don't leave the room.'

'Sure you don't want me to eat them?' asked Ken.

'I don't have any ammunition for that cannon of yours, just lying around the house, but we can order some, or you could fly to Cairo to get it, if you can't wait that long.'

'I don't want to wait at all,' said Ken.  'I should be getting back.  He'll be worried.'

'Kenneth.  It doesn't make any difference to the past, how long you stay here.'

'Right. I forgot.  We should try to figure it out, how we can be together, I mean.  Permanently.  You have more experience than I do.  You must have some ideas.'

His grandfather was silent, staring into space. Or into Time, thought Ken.  'You do, don't you?  You have ideas.'

'Kenneth... I don't know for certain.  I told you, experiments are dangerous.'

'Just tell me what you know.  Please, Grandfather.  Let me decide if it's too dangerous.'

'Should I do that?  You've always been reckless, when your own safety is involved.'

'What do you know about that?  And besides, it's my safety, so it's my decision.'

'Just tell him, Lawrence,' said a voice from the shadows.

'Leila?'

'Tell him, or I will.'

'Fine, then.  You tell him.  It's your solution.'

Leila Hutchinson laughed.  'My solution, darling?  Not exactly a solution I planned, now was it?'

'No, not planned. And so who knows if it will work again?'

'What?' asked Ken.  'What are you talking about?'  Then the realization hit him.  'Leila? You came from the past, to live with Grandfather, didn't you?' he demanded.

'Yes,' said Leila.

'How?  How did you do it?'

'There is only one way,' Leila told him.  'But you won't like it.'

*****************

'Ken?  Are you spending the night out here?'

'Perhaps,' said Ken.  He looked up.  His grandfather held out a tall glass of some cool beverage.  He took the glass and pressed its dewy surface to his brow.  'That would be best.  I should never go back in that house again.'

'Why?' asked Lawrence Hutchinson.  'The house is your destiny, and you've accepted it.'

'That's nonsense.  I'm sorry, Grandfather, but I don't believe in destiny.  Not that sort of destiny.  I'm returning to my own time...'

'You'll have to go back into the house to do that.  Besides, the bench will be very uncomfortable after a few hours, and the mosquitos will soon be out in force.'

'I'm returning to my own time,' said Ken, firmly.  'I'm shutting the house up for good.  I'm sorry, Grandfather, but it's necessary. This house is dangerous.'

'It is.  Which is why it needs someone like you to guard it.  The house has always had guardians.  Leila and I have been its guardians for several years now, and someday it will be your turn.  Yours and your friend's.'

'David's? No.  Never.  The price is too high.'

'Too high for whom?' asked Lawrence Hutchinson, sounding merely curious, as if they were talking about the weather, or the latest Hollywood scandal.

'Too high for him, of course,' said Ken.  'Too high for David Starsky.'

'Who are you to make such a unilateral decision?  It should be up to him, or to the both of you, at least.'

'Is that what you did?  Let Leila decide?  You outlined the options to her, and sat there waiting for her decision?'

'No.  Of course not.  We didn't know.  We discovered this by accident.'

'Exactly.  But I know.  And Starsky doesn't know.  How can I even consider asking such a thing of him?'

'What do you think he would say?' asked his grandfather.

What would Starsky say?  Ken could hear him, even now.  "I would fight the future for you. I'd do anything to be with you."  But would he?  Or would his love for his wife and family hold him back?  That would be for the best, Ken thought.  And yet it would hurt, if Starsky rejected him.  That was the terrible thing.

'Come inside, my boy,' said his grandfather.  'Get some sleep.  Go back to your own time tomorrow, and let the future come as it will.  As it did for Leila and me.'

Ken sighed.  He drained the cool drink in one long swallow.  'I thought the past and the future were one?' he asked.

'They are,' said his grandfather.  'So why worry?'

**************

Ken watched the play of shadows on the white walls of his bedroom.  They were only shadows, he thought.  Not ghosts.  They could not be ghosts.  They must not be ghosts.  If he never returned to Starsky's own century, and stayed in his own, eventually Starsky would forget him.

David Starsky was dead, by now.  His heart had stopped beating centuries ago, and he lay in the cold, cold ground.  Starsky had died, and worms had eaten his body, but not for love.  If Ken found his coffin and opened it, he would see only Starsky's bones, and they would not warm to his caresses and grow new flesh.  David Starsky was dead and gone.

How had he died?  An ancient patriarch, with a long white beard, surrounded by his many children and grandchildren?  Had he even remembered Ken by that point, or had he determined it had all been a fantasy from his childhood?  Perhaps there had been other men?  Other men's hands had touched him....

No!  Ken sat up, and eyed the packed bags his grandfather had placed by the bedroom door.  The white mosquito netting around his bed moved, stirred by a stray breeze.  Shadows moved on the white walls.  But there are no ghosts, thought Ken.

Had Starsky died of an illness.  Some disease that had been a terrible plague in the sixteenth century, but long eradicated in his own time?  Smallpox?  He remembered reading about the terrible sufferings caused by smallpox.  Perhaps he could pay one more visit to Starsky's time, and give him the vacine?  Where would he find it, though?  The only samples were locked away in laboratories -- and terrorist headquarters.

Or  had Starsky died by violence?  Then what?  Had Ken's actions altered the course of their families' histories beyond recognition?  Had Michael Starsky been born, and if he had, did he even know who Ken Hutchinson was?

This was impossible, thought Ken.  He preferred a simpler definition of time.  The past was past, dead and gone.  The future was yet to be.  All I have is the present, he thought.  This heart beat.  This breath.  And then, it is the past, dead and gone.

Like David Starsky.  His heart had stopped beating, centuries ago.

Shadows moved on the white walls.  The mosquito netting moved, stirred by a stray breeze, or an invisible hand.  Warm arms came around him.  A warm mouth touched his own, lightly, once, twice, a third time.  Then, they moved to his eyes.

'Hutch,' said a beloved voice.  'I've found you.  I am here.  Why have you been gone so long?'

The sweet lips touched his throat.  Then a rough tongue lapped at the soft skin there, where the pulse beat.   A strong hand rested over his heart.

'I have been waiting, and waiting....'

'No!' said Ken.  'I can't come back to you.  Don't ask that of me.'

'Why not?' asked David Starsky.  'Have you stopped loving me?  Have you found someone else?'

Ken started to lie, but he waited one heartbeat too long.

'Ah!' said Starsky.  'I know the truth.  You cannot lie to me now, for I felt your heart leap into my hand.  Why won't you come to me?'

'I'm afraid,' said Ken.  'I'm a coward.  I don't know how we can go on living as we did.  How will we manage?'

'One day at a time,' said Starsky.  'Like everyone else.  Have you got everything you need?  Can you leave now?'

'Yes.  My bags are over there, by the door.  But I don't think this is wise.'

'No, it isn't wise,' Starsky admitted.  'We are lovers, and what lovers have ever been wise?  Wisdom is for the old and feeble, who have nothing else.  Come on.  Get up and get dressed.  Come back where you belong.  Time waits for no man.'

The stone staircase was dark and cold.  Starsky held a candle, and the light flickered with pathetic courage.  What could Ken do but follow.  They started up, and after a few steps, Ken heard a slight noise behind him.  He turned.  His grandfather stood in the hallway, watching.

Lawrence Hutchinson smiled.  'I told you it was your destiny,' he whispered.

The candlelight flickered, and the hall was empty.  There was only David Starsky, and the tunnel through time.

************

On to Part Four

Part Four

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