Richard Kimble, Chuck
While in Chuck's care, Kimble has a vivid dream about his wife. He has no idea how vivid it gets.
Chuck couldn't believe it was true. His friends online would be so envious. But he wasn't sure he wanted to give away his secret just yet. Having Richard Kimble under his roof, or strictly speaking, his mother's roof, was too big, too awesome. This was something he wanted to keep to himself. Besides, he had to be careful. That cop was still on Kimble's trail. One false move and he could end up costing his idol his freedom, not helping him as was his intention.
Once again, Chuck tiptoed over to the bed where dr Kimble was sleeping. Not peacefully, and not dreamlessly, but at least he was now asleep. And for the moment, he wasn't hallucinating. It seemed the antibiotics were doing their job.
It was ridiculous, standing around like this like a teenager with a crush. Chuck had a vision of himself hovering anxiously over the bed. With a barely audible sigh, he returned to his desk, and began to surf for information that might be useful to Richard Kimble.
By the time his back hurt and his eyes felt like someone had blown sand into them, he got up, pushed the chair back and for the first time that day, he thought about food, for himself, not his guest. Correction. The day was over. It was now officially night outside his window, which meant his mother would be in bed, asleep.
Chuch considered sneaking inside the big house anyway, to raid the kitchen, but he thought better of it. His guest was moving about uneasily on the bed, and after the near-catastrophe, when Kimble had gotten away, and almost been caught by the local police, Chuck didn't want to risk leaving him alone.
Kimble was tossing and turning on the bed, as if he was having nightmares. Chuch wouldn't be surprised if he was. Considering what the man had gone through in the past months, his entire life was a nightmare. That was why Chuck was so happy to be able to provide this safe hiding place for Kimble.
Now Kimble began to whimper and sob in his sleep, and Chuck could only imagine what horror the man was reliving in his mind. He stood above the bed, indecisively, wondering whether to wake him or - The decision was taken from him, as an incoherent wail escaped Kimble's lips.
Without thinking, Chuck kneeled by the bed and tried to comfort his guest, ineffectually. It had been years since he'd been close to another human being, unless you counted his mother, and she was usually the one to comfort him, not the other way around.
"Hey, take it easy. You're safe here."
Kimble's arms were thrashing about, and Chuck tried to hold him down, afraid that the sleeping man would harm himself in his terror. His touch had an unexpected effect. Now he was being pulled down onto the bed, more or less on top of Kimble. Not used to the proximity of another human being, Chuck tensed up and for a second he was close to panic. But he forced himself to keep calm. Kimble was asleep. He didn't know what he was doing.
He was lying on his bed, at home. Helen walked into the room, and sat down beside him. Where had she been? For a second, he had a premonition that something horrible had happened to his wife. But here she was. Safe and sound. Smiling at him, reaching out to hold him. He pulled her down on top him, and smoothed back her long hair.
"Hello, beautiful. Where have you been?"
"Out. But I'm back now. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes. Come here."
He let his fingers brush her face, trailing down to her lips. Those lips were so lovely and full. Helen's tongue appeared and the added moisture made the red shine. Playfully, she sucked in his finger. He felt a jolt of desire shoot through him. Letting her continue for a moment longer, he finally let his fingers continue their slow, lingering exploration of her body. His hand found the round fullness of one breast and he wanted to reach inside to touch bare skin. After some fumbling, he was able to bypass the troublesome blouse and felt the soft satin of the bra. But that too had to go.
Helen giggled and pulled back enough so she could remove the bra herself. Apparently, she didn't trust a doctor to be able to undress a woman. Before he'd had time to miss her, she was back, wearing only her panties. Her hands were moving down to his waist to pull up his t-shirt. Impatiently, he removed the interfering garment.
Now he felt her warm, smooth skin cover his chest. A moment earlier he had felt cold. With her added warmth he was suddenly almost too hot. Gently, he placed a hand on her neck and pushed her face down to meet his. Their lips met in a cool kiss that rapidly deepened into something far more passionate.
Driven by a sense of urgency he couldn't quite understand, he wanted to clutch Helen close, so close he could merge their bodies into one. His mouth closed on hers, violently and he pushed his tongue inside. She was ready for him and for a while they focused on this oral love-making only.
Hungrily devouring her mouth, his hands trailed down her back reaching her ass. For a second, she seemed about to pull away, as if the suddenness of his move had startled her. By now, he was thoroughly aroused and was rubbing against her, trying to get closer still.
He abandoned the kissing in favor of leaving a wet trail down her neck and shoulder. Covering her clavicles and chest with kisses, he sought out a nipple, by now erect. Letting his tongue play with it, while his other hand found the twin, he concentrated on licking and kissing, but soon he wanted more, and sucked the wet nipple, hard. A low moan from Helen was the only response. Encouraged by that, he switched to the other side and began again.
From time to time, they returned to the kissing and all the while, he could feel his arousal increasing. Soon. He couldn't hold on much longer. Those panties would have to go as well. Nothing could be allowed to be come between them. For some reason it was vitally important to cram as much passion into this meeting as possible.
Why? This was his wife. They could make love any time they chose. But a sense of urgency kept pushing him on. He wanted to touch, taste, smell, sense as much as possible, as quickly as possible. It was as if he feared something would take Helen away from him.
His hands on her hips produced a puzzling reaction. She moved away from him as if hesitating. What was wrong?
"Helen? Did I hurt you?"
Had he left bruises on her skin? This kind of violent passion was rare in their relationship. Women were soft, fragile creatures. They had to be treated gently. Cursing his own insensitivity, he whispered loving reassurances in her ear.
His lips brushed her earlobe, and a sudden inspiration made him stick his tongue inside. The wet flickering sensation must have encouraged her yet again. By now there was a new determination in her moves.
She proceeded to undress him, and he was happy to pull back, and assume a more passive role. Helen in this mood always turned him on more than anything else. Again, their mouths locked on to each other, and while Helen's hands awkwardly removed the last of his garments, he tried hard not to spook her again.
Now she was completely naked, and he thought she had never been as beautiful before. He paused for a moment to take in the sight of her. Her blonde hair flowing down her shoulders, her breasts that were just the right size to nestle in his hands, the strong, lithe muscles of her thighs -
Reaching for her again, he pulled her down onto his chest and for a while they didn't move. He relished the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against his. But his desperation wouldn't leave him any peace and his lips once again sought out hers. The kiss was deeper now, surer as if at last he was beginning to reach her. All the way inside.
Now he could feel her hands trail down his chest, fondling him, bringing out a response that seemed to be far greater than any time before. Her lips brushed his neck, his chest, continuing its agonizingly slow path across his skin. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said she was shy, hesitant even. As if somehow, this was the first time. But that was nonsense. They were married. How could this be like the first time?
A hand closed on him and began to stroke him, slowly, but increasingly fast. Why was she doing that? They weren't teenagers on a first date. Gently, he tried to remove her hands. He wanted to be inside her. Hold her down, or feel her pinning him down, moving on top of him like she used to love.
With hands made rougher than normally, by the inexplicable sense of urgency he pushed her off and moved on top of her. But her response was quite unlike any he'd met with before. Again he was struck by a sense of wrongness.
"Helen? What's wrong? Tell me."
His breath came in ragged gasps. He wanted her so much, but he couldn't force her. This was the woman he loved. Why was she acting this way? Almost as if she feared his touch.
Her face was an unreadable mask. Something was wrong. With an effort he tried to regain his breath and talk to her. Whatever it was, he would fix it. He'd take care of the problem. But Helen didn't seem to want to talk. And now it seemed she had come to a decision.
Once again, her hands closed on him, stroking him, bringing him closer. As if sensing this wasn't enough, she moved further down, and he felt her breath on his skin. Hesitating, she remained poised above his crotch.
For a moment, he wasn't sure if she would do it. It seemed she was hovering on the brink of flight. This was so unlike Helen. But at last it seemed she had made up her mind, and her face moved closer. He put his hands on her head, trying to push her away.
"Helen? You've never done this before -"
For the first time since this strange encounter between them had begun, she spoke to him, in a husky whisper.
"It's been so long. Did you miss me?"
"Yes. I missed you so much."
Suddenly the time for words was past. Her touch took away the last traces of coherent thought in his mind. Just like he'd known, she was perfect. Like the girl he'd dated in college. Lynda. But he forced down the memory of the other woman. This moment was for them alone. And he was carried away by a desire stronger than ever before.
Chuck couldn't believe he was hearing Kimble's whispered conversation with a woman who was dead and buried. He thought - His guest was dreaming about his late wife. Again he tried to move away, but Kimble's arms had him pinned down, pressed close to him. This couldn't be allowed to go on. He had to get away. If Kimble woke up and realized what he'd done it would ruin everything.
Still, Chuck hesitated. This was Kimble's only way of once again holding the woman he'd loved. His testimony at the trial proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Kimble had loved Helen, his wife. Which was exactly why he couldn't have killed her.
But whoever was responsible for the murder, it had left him alone, and the death had been so sudden, he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. Was it fair of Chuck to deprive Kimble of this last chance at happiness in his wife's arms?
He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, but he stopped fighting it. Allowed himself to be held, to be undressed, to be touched in ways he'd never experienced before. Not with anyone. Man or woman. Chuck had no idea of what to do, so he let Kimble take the lead.
The kiss was awkward. Sure, Chuck had kissed Kelly Matthews in fifth grade, but she'd been anything but skillful and he - The painful truth was he sucked in a big way. In tenth grade, he'd dated Paula Anevsky for a glorious week, until she tired of the geeky computer freak. That was it.
But Kimble - his idol, his role model, his hero - was everything Chuck could ever hope to be. Strong, gentle, yet forceful. There was no hesitation, no doubts.
And for a second, Chuck allowed himself to be swept away. Those hands - that mouth - It almost didn't feel weird at all. After a while, he found himself returning Kimble's kiss with some of the passion the man lavished on him. No. Not on him. On Helen. Chuck was just the intermediary.
And suddenly, he wanted to give this to the hunted fugitive. What else could he give him? Food, shelter, some painfully inadequate information from the internet. Was that enough? No.
Chuck wanted to give him more, and though his entire body was screaming out how wrong this was, he couldn't make himself pull away. And what if he somehow woke Kimble up? He'd never be able to get over the embarrassment. Better to just let whatever happened take its course.
For a second, he wished he could see into Kimble's mind, and know what he was supposed to be. But he'd seen the pictures of Helen Kimble online and in the papers. How could he ever hope to compare? She was so beautiful, and - she was a woman.
But his short-comings in that department didn't appear to deter Kimble at all. And he wanted to do more than just touching. It was all happening too quickly and rapidly escalating beyond what Chuck was prepared to give.
Desperately he searched for a solution inside his mind. At last, an idea came to him and he let his hands move down to perform a routine he'd perfected on his own unloved and unwanted flesh. Hoping this would be enough to bring his guest to climax, Chuck frantically used all his skills. But it wasn't enough. And he'd really known all along that it wouldn't be.
Again, Chuck searched his mind for something, anything that would do. At this point he'd come too far to back down, though he realized this was most likely a mistake. All that came to him was something he'd never even considered in relation to himself, except in his wildest dreams. And to perform this service for another man? He didn't know how and he was scared. But that seemed to be all he could do, if he didn't want Kimble to know what was happening.
Reluctantly, he moved into position and braced himself. While trying to recall every single porn movie he'd seen, he applied himself to the task. Just as he was about to begin, he felt Kimble's hands push him away. For a second, he feared he'd been discovered, and he broke into a cold sweat. How in the world was he going to explain this situation to Kimble? But the dreamy voice told him his guest was still fast asleep.
"Helen? You've never done this before -"
Kimble still thought he was Helen. For a second, Chuck's mind was a blank. What could he say? How could he explain his action, when it clearly wasn't what Kimble wanted? Think, Chuck, think. In a second he'll wake up and where would that leave you?
"It's been so long. Did you miss me?"
He tried to muffle his voice so the difference in pitch wouldn't be too obvious. And it seemed he was successful.
"Yes. I missed you so much."
Now all he had to do was the impossible. And somehow, guided by Kimble's hand on his neck, Chuck was able to enter into the fantasy so completely, he almost managed to forget who he was, and turned himself into Helen.
When it was over, Chuck forced down his nausea and removed all telltale residue of the onesided passion.
Kimble still appeared to be fast asleep, sparing him any mortifying explanations.
He slipped out of Kimble's embrace and fled into the bathroom, where kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, he emptied his stomach. Beyond any concerns over waking his guest up, Chuck ran outside to get away from the scene of the confusing encounter.
What had he done? How could this have happened? But at the back of his mind a voice whispered that a part of him had derived a little pleasure from it. What was wrong with him? This wasn't what he'd planned for the meeting with his hero.
When the sun came up, he didn't feel any wiser, but he knew he couldn't stay away any longer. If Kimble were to wake up, he might wander off again, and this time he might not be as lucky as the last time.
He should get some breakfast for his guest, but no one would be awake in the big house. Anyway, he had a few snacks in his fridge. They would have to do. If only he could keep a straight face. Straight?
That almost made him laugh, light-headed as he was from lack of sleep and food, despite his mother's best efforts. It was important that he didn't act out of the ordinary. He couldn't make Kimble suspicious.
It was a while longer before Chuck could force himself to return inside. From his position, with the big oak tree at his back, he could keep watch over the door to the guest house. Unless Kimble climbed out a window, there was no way he could escape without being noticed.
Kimble woke up to the realization that something was wrong. And even in the first confused seconds of wakefulness, he remembered. Helen. She was gone. It had only been a dream. But it had felt so real - Even the sex had been so real -
The feeling of loss plunged him back into what was his normal state these days. Numbness. Apathy. But that wasn't right. He had to keep all his wits about him if he wanted to stay one step ahead of his hunter. And he really ought to show a little gratitude towards his host.
The kid had saved his skin. For no other reason than - Yes, what could be motivating Chuck? A need for a purpose? Some kind of misguided hero worship?
It even seemed - but Kimble was ashamed of himself for even thinking this and he immediately pushed the thought away - that Chuck had a bit of a crush on him. Of course not. Just a lonely guy looking for a cause to fill his empty life with.
Kimble reminded himself to act with a little more gratitude in what little time he might have left in this place. He was feeling better. It was time he was on his way. The thought of moving on filled him with despair. This wasn't home, far from it, but it was the first time in so long anyone had cared about him. Cared for him.
Suddenly, he realized what the difference was between this time and all the others. For the first time, he'd been himself. And the person who know about it hadn't tried to turn him in. Chuck had known all along who he was and still wanted to help him. This thought filled Kimble with a warm feeling towards his host.
A noise from the direction of the door had Kimble straining every muscle to get away. But it was just his host. Chuck looked subdued somehow. Was anything wrong? Were the cops on their way?
"Is anything wrong?"
There was a pause, long enough for Kimble to begin to worry. Then Chuck shook his head.
"No. Nothing's wrong. Take it easy."
The look on Chuck's face was reassuring. Whatever his problem was, couldn't have anything to do with this situation. Maybe another quarrel with his mother.
Kimble slid back under the covers. He wasn't quite as strong as he'd thought. The infection was still present. If only he could sleep a little longer.
"That's it. Go back to sleep. I'll bring some breakfast in a little while."
Kimble walked away, constantly keeping a lookout in every direction. Looking over his shoulder, worrying about a pursuit that never came. At least not this time. He reached into the bag and brought out the piece of paper Chuck had written his phone number and email address on.
It was madness, but Kimble found himself wanting to get in touch again. By now, his pursuer would know where he'd been, or at least suspect. If he got in touch again - But it was so lonely out on the road. Chuck's had been the first truly sympathetic face he'd seen since this nightmare began. Well, almost.
And the kid had been the first to offer any constructive help. His computer skills were impressive, and maybe the kid was right. Maybe he could use a little help from the online community. Instead of crumpling up the piece of paper, he put it back in the bag. Maybe.
When Chuck's unwelcome visitor finally left, without a word, he sank down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. That had been so close. One second sooner and Kimble would have been back at the deranged cop's mercy.
But sitting down on the bed brought back memories and Chuck couldn't remain there. He pulled the used sheets off the bed and began to tidy up the place. When his mother looked in to offer him breakfast, she was surprised to see the place in such order.
"You're a good boy, Chuck. I've got some waffles in the kitchen if you're hungry."
"What? Oh, thanks, mom, I'll be over in a moment."
"Is that awful man gone now?"
For a second, Chuck thought she was talking about Kimble, but in the same instant he realized she was referring to the cop.
"How dare he push his way in here, as if you were a criminal? What is this country coming to these days?"
"The guy's got a personal score to settle. I don't think he cares who he takes down on the way to reaching his goal."
"That's a frightening thought. But he's gone for good now, isn't he, Chuck?"
"I hope so. Go on, mom. I'll be right over."
When his mother shut the door behind her, Chuck carried the sheets into the bathroom and shoved them into the hamper. He'd wash them later. For now, he just needed to catch his breath. And he needed to think things through. What had happened between him and Kimble had been a mistake, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Staring out the window, he remembered how Kimble had looked as he was saying goodbye. There was look of resignation there, but also a wild determination to see his quest through to the end. No matter what. That was what worried Chuck. All those trigger-happy cops.
Watch your back. Stay safe. And please get back in touch.
Shaking his head, Chuck straightened up and decided to forget about what had happened. What he needed to focus on was that he'd beaten that cop. He'd won. Kimble was still safe. And maybe they'd meet again one day.